


Flame-capped Achilles

by whisperingivy



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, F/M, Gun Violence, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Violence, careful kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingivy/pseuds/whisperingivy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroko did not know what he was expecting when he finds himself writing his name down on the military conscription list. </p><p>Death, he supposed, but definitely not love - especially from the red-haired lieutenant Akashi Seijuurou.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:  
> This is a serious fic, from beginning to end. If you're kind of squeamish, then I wouldn't recommend reading this...on the other hand, if you really love angst, sadness, and war-related stuff then this is for you! 
> 
> Also this is not very political at all (would I even know how to write about politics???) and has nothing to do with nonfictional circumstances.
> 
> Update: I changed the title because I am shit at naming stories

 

_Flashfoward -_

 

 

“Where are we going, exactly?”

The dusty white jeep rattled over the rocks and sand, traveling underneath the bright sun and the cloudless sky. Kuroko braced himself using the assist handles above the window as he sat in the passenger seat next to his granddaughter and son, concerned that if the car jolted one more time, his old body wouldn’t keep up.

The terrain was familiar and gut-wrenching as he stared through the dusty windows, remembering the color of the pale sand and the yellow-green of small desert plants, as if he had been living here all his life. Except that wasn’t completely incorrect; he had spent much of his youth running and chasing his life (or what remained of his former life) here. It was all coming back to him as he reminisced wearily, memories foaming at the surface like the tides breaking open on the coastline.

Kuroko shuddered slightly, wondering why his brain was suddenly vomiting these memories before him.

“Dad?”

The dark-haired man driving the car was looking over at Kuroko, his father. “You okay? Are you dizzy? Do you need a break?”

Kuroko smiled. In the corner of his eye, he could see his reflection in the windows - wrinkled, gray-haired, old. “I am fine, Shirou, although I am a little dizzy. In fact, I think we can stop here. I have someone I want you two to meet.”

“Who are we meeting?” Minami, Kuroko’s granddaughter, flung her arms around the passenger seat, where Kuroko sat. Her bright voice gave her grandfather a reason to laugh.

“The love of my life.” He replied, turning in his seat and pecking Minami on the forehead. She withdrew immediately and giggled, green eyes shining.

“Ewww! Boys have cooties!”

Kuroko laughed again. He simply adored his granddaughter, even if she wasn’t her biological descendant. His son wasn’t either. Kuroko had adopted and raised Shirou after the war that ravaged the entire world, desperately craving the hope and the happiness that came with cherishing life. Kuroko loved his entire family, from Shirou to Minami, and even the girl he never met whom Shirou had knocked up when he was in high school.

“Alright, I’m going to park here.” Shirou announced over his father and daughter’s gleeful banter, situating the jeep between a rock and some bushes. Exiting the car, Shirou returned to the other side, opening the passenger door and easing Kuroko out. Minami let herself out and dropped onto the dirt, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the wild, vast expanse of the desert.

The glare of the sun temporarily blinded Kuroko, who remembered that he had a cap in his back pocket. As he fitted the cap over his head, he felt a gust of hot air from the side and suddenly, everything felt too real.

“Dad!” Kuroko felt Shirou’s embrace from the side where the wind had not attacked him. The older man winced at his son’s loud, frantic voice, as it didn’t quite help.

“Did you drink enough water? It’s too hot here, I knew it. Let’s go back to the hotel and find something else to do.”

“No.” Kuroko said firmly, maybe a little too harshly. “I need to be here. I won’t leave until I have seen him.”

Shirou opened his mouth to complain, that his father needed to take it easy because being elderly wasn’t a simple feat to accomplish. Especially when the temperature was well above 37 degrees Celsius, and they had only brought three large refillable containers of water. But the look on Kuroko’s face was a confusing mixture of sorrow, nostalgia and desperation - Shirou could only nod and accept his father’s wishes.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked, helping his father stand steadily on his wavering feet.

Scanning the hazy horizon, Kuroko could remember every plant, every rock, every crack in the ground. The distant mountains that seemed to shimmer with the hot sun beating down on the dry, desolate land. This was the right place. At least he wasn’t suffering from Alzheimer’s, because he couldn’t live with forgetting what had happened in the desert when he was just a young man.

“Let’s go for a walk in that direction.” Kuroko pointed, and Shirou nodded once more.

“Up, daddy!” Minami stuck out her arms for her father to hoist her up. Shirou did so and grabbed Kuroko’s hand. The three of them began to walk.

It wasn’t a far trek. Kuroko’s legs seemed to struggle but the muscle memory retained. Without thinking about it, Kuroko remembered how to lift his feet up to avoid dragging around in the sand, unlike his son, who was slightly lagging behind. He remembered to avoid anything on the ground, lest he be bitten by a snake or startled by some animal. This wasn’t the safest of places to be strolling in, but Kuroko had instructed everyone to wear heavy boots and extra layers of socks, in case they did come across some unhappy creature.

Sweat began to run down Kuroko’s face, but it didn’t bother him. All he could think about was the intimate sound of dirt crunching under his boots breaking the silence of the desert, and the man with red hair, currently so far away in his past yet so close in a physical sense.

It's been years.  _Decades._

Kuroko's heart ached, thoughts spinning.  _Had it really been decades since I've last seen him, touched him?_

“Is there any particular place we’re heading for?” He could hear his son struggling to keep Minami on his hip while keep up with Kuroko’s surprisingly quick pace. “I mean...”

Shirou trailed off when he saw Kuroko pause. As he approached his father’s left, he found a large pile of rocks on top of a dirt mound. It was so easy to tell what it was buried underneath it. 

“Is this…?” Shirou asked, and both men knew what he was talking about.

Kuroko nodded stiffly, feeling his knees tremble as he lowered himself to the ground, until he was kneeling in the dirt, with his hands clasped in his lap. The position he was sitting in brought back years of withheld memories and he mentally braced himself, lest he had another panic attack. His stomach lurched painfully, as if someone had reached into his abdomen and twisted all of his organs into a knot. 

 _Breathe,_ the old man reminded himself, closing his eyes and breathing in the heat and the dust.  _In, out. In, out._

When his eyes fluttered open, he was suddenly so aware of his own vitality - or lack, thereof. 

“Minami-chan.” The older man called, and Shirou let his daughter down in order to clamber onto Kuroko’s lap. He wrapped his arms around the young girl, who stared at the mound in question.Kuroko needed some sort of comfort to remind himself that he was not alone, and would never be alone anymore. 

“Minami-chan, do you know what love is?”

The question hung in the air before the little girl in his arms looked up at him. 

"It’s when two people care about each other a lot, right?”

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Kuroko said. He heard Shirou scuff the ground besides him, and then the tell-tale thump as his son sat down besides him and Minami. “Love is a powerful concept. Love can be something that goes on forever, but it is so unique to each and every person in the world who experiences it, knowing that everyone just wants to be loved. One day, Minami-chan, you'll find a boy you love."

"But boys are gross and mean! And they have - " 

"-cooties. Yes, sweetheart, I know." Kuroko finished her sentence, and tickled her stomach. She squirmed in his arms, giggling. "And that's why I brought you and your dad here, because I want to tell a story above love.”

“Story-time!” 

“Yes, story-time. I will try to be quick, since it’s so hot out here." Minami wiggled in his arms, trying to find the most comfortable position against his chest. "But first and foremost, can you imagine the world sixty years ago?" 

"That's  _ancient history_ , Grampa!" 

Kuroko laughed. He wasn't going to lie, he felt ancient too. "Then imagine Tokyo, with a lot less technology and fun cars, and schools that you had to walk or take the train to, and fast food restaurants at every other corner..." 

Peering down at his granddaughter, he noticed that she had closed her eyes and was probably imagining it all. 

"Now, this was a time period where the world was at war with each other. This story isn't very pleasant at times, but I'll be sure to tell you enough to make you understand. When I was eighteen and living in Tokyo..."

 

* * *

 

A month before Kuroko’s eighteenth birthday, the world launched itself into war.

The Japanese corporate media did not miss a single thing that was happening to both their native country the the countries involved. The aerial battles that took place above the Atlantic Ocean, the fights in the middle of the desert, the bombings over various cities. The reality of it all was that the countries were sick of each other the had finally had enough. The war sparked a chaotic wave of different political opinions across popular social media sites the it only grew worse as time went by.

In Seirin, the reality of the war had dwindled to both resistance, fear, and gossip. The small high school still continued to allow students inside as if the war raging just a few thousand miles in radius away from Tokyo was nonexistent. Some students were protesting and some were pulled out of school by their parents. Of course, some were discussing people they knew who were fighting and the rumors of possible obligational recruitment by the Japanese government.

Kuroko had managed to sit through the first five minutes of class in the morning without anyone asking him for his opinion about the complexity of the war. This had been going on for about two weeks now and had taken place a multitude of times in the locker rooms before and after basketball practice. It wasn’t like Kuroko didn’t care about current events, or that thousands were dying every day - it was just that he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react.

So he decided to ignore it on the January morning, where snow drifted lazily through the air before settling on the snow-covered ground, only aiding to the great pile of cold that blanketed much of Japan like a silver fog. With an upcoming calculus test for third period, he can’t really afford to waste time talking about a war that most likely won’t directly affect him in the near future.

“Kagami Taiga?” The homeroom teacher called out for attendance, raising her voice above the semi-quiet chatter that usually permeated the classroom.

“Here.” A hand rose up from the seat in front of Kuroko.

“Kuroko Tetsuya?”   

Kuroko liked to think that Kagami sitting in front of him was a little bit of a nuisance when he was trying to see the board or the teacher, because Kagami was - well, large.

“Present.” Kuroko stuck his hand out at an angle so that the teacher could see the movement in the back of the classroom, where the blue-haired teen sat. When there was no repetition of his name, Kuroko assumed that the teacher had marked him present, and put his hand down.

“Kawahara Koichi?”

The class continued to buzz. Kuroko returned to the calculus homework practice problems and notes on the desk in front of him, trying to memorize formulas and methods. Kagami had already begun to slump over in exhaustion. Even if there was a war raging outside, Riko wasn’t going to give up basketball practice just yet.

“Kawahara Koichi?”

Kuroko looked up and the volume of the classroom chatter fell steadily.

“Is Kawahara here? Has anyone seen him or heard from him recently?” The teacher asked.

Someone called out. “Heard his parents pulled him out because his older sister was conscripted.”

The classroom chatter died down almost immediately, and looked to the vacant seat where the Kawahara used to sit. Kuroko subtly poked Kagami’s back with a pencil, trying to wake up the tall red-headed male to ask him about their basketball teammate.

“Alright.” The teacher said, and moved on to the next person on the list.

“Kagami-kun.” Kuroko whispered, and when his friend did not stir, he poked him again. “Kagami-kun, wake up.”

“Huh?” Kagami looked up tiredly from resting his head in his arms and swiveled around in his chair. “What’s happening?”

“Kawahara-kun was taken out of school because his sister was conscripted. Does Riko-san know?”

“Obviously…” Kagami rubbed a hand over his eyes, frowning at the bright light streaming through the windows. “It’s not really surprising either. People have been withdrawing from school for a few months already.”

Kuroko nodded, trying to refocus on studying his calculus homework, but found the lingering question on his tongue too tempting. He had been considering it for some time now.

“Kagami-kun, do you think we will be receiving conscription letters, too?”

Kagami’s hand found its way to the back of his own neck, his own subconscious way of saying that he’s uncertain. “Hard to say. I mean, if anyone is getting conscripted from this school, then there’s a solid chance that all of the athletes will be selected…”

At this point, Kuroko’s face was unreadable. Kagami continued.

“I’m not sure if I want to join. My family doesn’t have enough money so that I can be released from service. I definitely don’t want to give up basketball, though.”

Kagami shifted the conversation when he felt a little unnerved by the idea of receiving his own conscription letter. “Why ask, Kuroko? Are you thinking of joining?”

The blue-haired teen shook his head quickly. “If I did, I would not last very long.”

It didn’t occur to Kuroko how despondent that comment was, but it was too late to make amends when Kagami began berating him for thinking so negatively.

“Don’t _say_ that, Kuroko! God, that is so depressing. What if we really do get letters? Huh? If you get a letter, then I’ll have to join with you or else I would regret it. This is a _real, fucking war_ , not some shitty Hollywood - ”

“ _Excuse me!_ ”

Kagami’s head whipped around to see the teacher standing over the red-haired teen’s desk, arms crossed and looking particularly annoyed.

“Please refrain from shouting and cursing, or you will have to see me for detention.”

Kagami flushed a little, and Kuroko focused on using his lack of presence to avoid being lectured by the teacher as well.

“I - yes, ma’am.”

“Very well, then.” The teacher turned back to the front of the room. “Class, please take out your assignments for first block and review what was taught yesterday.”

Kuroko put away his calculus homework and pulled out his history assignments, attempting to push the topic he discussed with Kagami to the back of his mind. There was no use worrying about it, even if it were justified. At least he was not the only person in the world to think about these things. Fear, as his seventeen, almost eighteen-year old brain could comprehend, was just an emotion, and that meant that he could control it.

As Kuroko’s eyes began to skim his clean writing, the first warplanes began to circle high above Tokyo.

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic in a long time, so I would really like to receive criticism/comments, seeing that my grammar sucks and I'm not the best at conveying words onto paper. Or computers.


	2. Chapter 2

Kuroko had never heard air raid sirens before.

It was _loud_. Even when sitting inside the empty art classroom, it had startled him enough to drop the kamaboko from his lunch, which unfortunately hit the ground before he could react. The blaring noise was everywhere too, as if the sirens were placed all around the school. Blood suddenly rushed to his ears, pounding harshly as he rose to his feet, uncertain of what to do.

If anything, the noise was metallic, cold, and intimidating, echoing far and wide across the land. It was virtually unrecognizable but a chill ran down his spine, as if he knew that this siren was warning him: _danger._ Now all he could think of was getting back to class to check in with other people. The sound rose and fell in continuous waves, as he quickly covered and wrapped up his bento, before hurrying out to return to class. 

The halls were eerily empty now, something that never happened during the lunch period. Some doors were slamming shut and locking; it didn't even occur to Kuroko that the doors had locks, but if the teachers were using it, then something bigger was going on. He broke into a run, taking a left down a hallway that he knew was near his class. A sudden buzz from his phone in his pocket made him jump, but when he pulled it out, he found that Kagami was calling him.

“Kagami-kun!" He yelled. What’s happening?” **  
**

“ _Kuroko!_ ” He could barely hear Kagami over the loudness of the sirens. “ _Where are you? Come back to class, we need to take cover!_ ”

“I’m aware.” Kuroko yelled back, not really wanting to question what Kagami meant by taking cover. “I am near the class right now.”

As Kuroko neared his classroom, the door slid open, with Kagami standing by the entrance.

The entire class was crouched near the corner of the room farthest from the windows, already assuming standard position with their bodies kneeling over and hands over their heads. Everyone was packed together against the wall, with a few girls were already crying. The teacher beckoned the two males over, demonstrating to them how to cover the back of their necks and heads to avoid the effects of radiation.

 _Radiation?_ The word pulsed through Kuroko’s mind. An alarmed look from Kagami told him that he didn’t know what was going on either.

There was no time to think. The teacher pushed them both down to the ground near the desks. Wrapping his arms around his head and neck, Kuroko attempted to control his breathing, still smelling his bento that he was currently huddling over. For all he knew the sirens could be a drill, but it didn't make sense if the teachers didn't take the time to teach them the correct procedures before putting the school through a drill. But at the same time, nothing war-related could be actually happening. He didn’t recall when the news channels or newspapers have ever reported that the war was occurring directly over Tokyo. The nearest warzone was on the Asian mainland and the Pacific Ocean, near China and Korea. Japan was involved, but so far the Japanese military had been successful in keeping the actual war away from the Japanese mainland.

What worried Kuroko more were his parents, who were still working in Tokyo. If anyone wanted to attack Japan, they would attack the capital, but _shit_ , his parents were there! Did they know what was going on? Were they safe? Were they able to contact each other? Could they -

A thunderous _boom_ shook the ground.

Kuroko could physically feel the vibrations under his body, as if someone had dropped something extremely heavy. A few screams were elicited from the huddling students. 

“Keep down!” The teacher shouted. “Everyone, please do not panic.”

Another massive  _boom_ quickly followed, but it seemed closer to the school. Seirin High was within a ten-mile radius of the capital city - could they be hit within the next hour? The windows rattled ominously due to the force of the shock-wave that swept through, and a few books toppled out of the bookshelf nearby.

A few students whimpered, followed by quiet sniffles. 

Kuroko’s heart thudded against his rib cage, so loud that it rivaled the shrill wails of the sirens. Was that noise coming from Tokyo? Did someone drop a _bomb_? A missile? 

“Breathe, Kuroko.” He heard Kagami speak directly into his ear next to him. “You’re hyperventilating.”

“My _parents_ are in Tokyo.” Kuroko retorted, feeling too scared to be polite. He hadn't even realized that his respiration had sped up considerably. “I can’t - ”

He was interrupted by a high-pitched, whistling sound before a loud crash of what seemed to be missiles in the distance hitting a hard surface. This time, nothing in the classroom was physically shaking from the impact, but everyone could imagine how horrifying the sight would be if they could see what was happening. 

Kuroko gasped, hugging his neck and head tighter. Several students began to cry harder. 

 _This can’t be real,_ Kuroko thought, squeezing his head to stop his hands from shaking, but to no avail. These things weren't supposed to happen anymore. War - _world wars -_ were a concept of the past. Did human beings never learn to become a better society as a whole? War was just something a student learned in a history class, read in a history textbook. War was _not_ supposed to happen within his generation, or the next, or the next one after that, Kuroko rationalized in attempt to justify his fears. Wars like this were supposed to be in movies, in Hollywood films and Asian dramas and cartoon shows. War was _glorious._ War was not huddling on the floor behind desks and trembling like a leaf, not knowing where or when the next explosion would occur. He didn't _understand._ Why was it happening to him? Why did he have to be here?  _How can this be real?_

Even his teeth were chattering from the paralyzing fear. _This is not happening,_  he repeated in his head, _this is not real, this is a dream, it_ has _to be a dream -_

It was not a dream, the blue-haired boy concluded, when the shockwaves of another particular missile shattered the windows of the classroom.

He drew blood when he bit down too hard on his lower lip. It tasted metallic and gross. 

Frigid January wind, dry leaves and pearly white snow swirled into the classroom, contrasting the shrill sounds of people screaming and crying and the sharpness of the air raid sirens still blaring outside. Fortunately, no glass had hit either the blue-haired or red-haired teen, but the shattered glass wasn't the biggest problem here. From what Kuroko could hear, people were in a frenzy. There was so, _so_ much shouting, people beginning to panic and make the mad dash for the lower floors. He could feel Kagami besides him, though it seemed that the larger teen wasn't faring any better in mental strength as he was. There was the sound of chairs and desks falling over and clattering noisily all around, and people yelling _Sensei,_ _someone's bleeding!,_  and his teacher begging everyone to _please stay down, don’t move, I need to check on the classes next door!_ , and all Kuroko wanted was to keep his eyes closed and will away the hellish chaos, but too scared in the idea that the floor beneath him would be the last thing he would ever see in his short, seventeen years of life.

 _Please, please, not yet._ Kuroko was not religious in any way, but desperate times called for desperate measures. _Mom, Dad, please be safe._

The chaos continued to crash outside like thunder and lightning fused together in a storm of fear and anger. Kuroko was rooted to the spot, completely at the mercy of whatever higher being there was, or whether it was fate or some sheer luck that he didn't know he had. And he couldn't even imagine what was happening in Tokyo, with so many buildings and high structures there. So many civilians, so many lives... 

The air raid and air raid sirens ended as quickly as it began, leaving behind the distant noises of car alarms, buildings crumbling and police, firefighter and ambulance sirens.

The distant rumble of a city in flames. 

Glass glittered in the sunlight alongside small clumps of snow on the floor. The brightness of the debris cast a glow onto the ceiling and lit up the room in an eerily, frosty white light. As he pushed himself up shakily, he felt the shards crack under the soles of his shoes. Kagami was already helping up other terrified students, speaking in hushed whispers to calm them down.

In retrospective, the actual air raid had only spanned the course of several minutes, but it had felt like months. Kuroko’s hands were still shaking; he grasped his pale fingers, but he couldn't physically stop himself. He gingerly stepped around the piles of glass to find a broom and dustpan in the cupboard, but was stopped by his teacher.

“Thank you, Kuroko, but it is not necessary. You need to head home.” His teacher patted the teen's back in gratitude and led him away from the broken fragments. 

“In fact, the entirety of Tokyo is in lockdown, and I’d rather not keep you here.” The teacher admitted, placing his hands in on his hips. His glasses shone when he turned to the shattered windows, where the sun streamed through. 

"Then what will we do?" A student piped up, encouraging an onslaught of questions to be thrown about. 

"Is Tokyo unsafe now? Will we have to relocate homes?" 

"Do we know who cause this?" 

"Sensei, what is the prime minister saying?" 

"Are we going to die?"  

"Please listen!" The teacher raised his hands, addressing the entire class. “I want you all to take a deep breath. I don't know what the prime minister is saying, nor what exactly happened in Tokyo. As of now, I highly doubt that classes will resume. I spoke to a few other teachers and they all agree to have the students remain at home until further notice. Stay safe and try not to go outside unless it is absolutely necessary." 

The classroom atmosphere seemed to have shifted.

"Sensei, what about you?" Kagami stepped forward. 

Eyes softening, the teacher replied. “I will most likely be spending time with my family, at home. Although if the air raids continue, then I may have to relocate. I advise the same to all of you."  

Then the teacher bowed. "I wish you all the best, and I hope to see each and every one of your faces again, in good health. Good luck, everyone.”

"Thank you, sensei." Each student chimed in and bowed, including Kuroko. 

 _Luck, indeed._   

Kuroko had no idea how much luck he would need for the upcoming months. 

 

* * *

 

". _..food shortages are prevalent across the Tokyo prefecture, as well as several other major agriculture prefectures. Many residents are fleeing to refugee and evacuee camps in northern Japan, as many homes have been destroyed in the bombing. Tokyo remains under lockdown, and multiple other cities have done the same. The Prime Minister will issue a conference at 7 PM tonight, which will be shown on this news channel. In addition, the government has not yet released the name of the country that has damaged much of Tokyo, although social media such as Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr and Reddit have reported the country to be..."_

Kuroko sat on the ground, trying to fold clothes as quickly as he could to stuff them in backpacks full of other supplies. His mother had just texted him, asking him to pack as much as he could, as they obviously could not stay in Tokyo anymore. Both his parents were safe, thankfully, but practically every Japanese civilian was attempting to get out of the capital city at this time. Kuroko could only imagine how terrible the traffic was, or even more the fear that came with just sitting in your car, not knowing when the enemy would decide to strike next.

He racked his brain to think of what else was necessary to bring. In the backpacks was an assortment flashlights, extra batteries, matches, water bottles, non-perishable foods, cell phone chargers, a first aid kit, maps of Japan, money, and warm clothing. It wasn't like they owned many things meant for survival. The stores were raided long before Kuroko could get there, so he had to rely on what they already had at home.  _  
_

The TV in the background wasn't helping. He had put it on just to find out what was happening, but now it just made him more nervous.

“Tetsuya-chan?”

Kuroko jolted slightly when he heard his grandmother’s voice interrupt his thoughts. He turned towards the older woman, watching her stride across the room with a slight wobble in her step. She required a cane to walk, which trembled when she gripped it.

“We don’t need to hear all of that.” She mused, picking up the remote and turning the TV off. “Please don’t stress yourself, Tetsuya-chan.”

“Thanks, grandma.” He sighed, mildly struggling to fold a pair of socks. “But I don’t know why you’re so calm about this.”

The older woman tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear, offering him a warm smile. “Don’t take me for being just an old granny who knits, sweetheart. I’ll have you know that I’ve lived through the entire second world war. Now give me those socks, you’re strangling it.”

Kuroko handed off the detestable fabric to her, and was about to tell her that he knew about her past already, that he knew she had lived in Hiroshima when that first bomb dropped, but didn’t have the heart to say it. He started again when he heard footsteps outside, but relaxed when he recognized his parents’ voices. The front door rattled when the key was inserted and the voices increased in volume when the door swung open.

“Tetsuya!” His mother called out, quickly striding into the house, slightly breathless. “Mother?”

Kuroko traveled to the living room, where his mother was waiting. She flung her arms around him, burying herself in his hoodie. Although Kuroko was considered himself a little shorter than average at 168 centimeters, he towered over the smaller woman.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” She searched his face, despite his protests. “The radio reported that a considerable amount of area were affected to some degree.”

“I'm fine!” He said, trying to pry her hands off in slight embarrassment, though she continued to cling to him. “Some windows broke but the school handled it pretty well." 

"But what about you?" He added, after spying a small cut on her wrist. 

Kuroko’s father, who had disappeared into the room where the backpacks were, suddenly reappeared carrying all of them. He helped Kuroko’s grandmother move quickly across the hallway.

“We’ll explain later.” He said, nudging them towards the door. “But Tokyo looks pretty bad, if you haven’t seen the news.”

“Oh, we’ve seen the news.” Kuroko’s grandmother piped up, her usual cheery demeanor allowing the younger relatives to smile a little. “And all those dreadfully boring political debates that come along with it. Tetsuya-chan, promise me you’ll never become one of those kinds of people, who blabber away on television without making a single good point.”

Kuroko laughed. “Sure.”

Kuroko’s mother finally unwrapped herself from her son, allowing him to get dressed.

“My boss advised us all to leave.” Kuroko’s father - the ever serious one - explained as he put on his shoes again. Kuroko noticed that he had switched from his regular dress shoes used for work to athletic sneakers, undoubtedly a better option in case of an emergency.

“There’s an evacuee camp for displaced families in Hokkaido that we can stay at. We’re going to drive to the train station and find a train to take us there, but we'll have to move quickly and efficiently.”  
****

Kuroko dug through the closet next to the door, hesitating when he saw his white and blue basketball sneakers. His mother peered over his shoulder.

“Wear your running sneakers, not those!” She said. “I paid a fortune for those shoes, and they’re only good for gym courts.”

Kuroko hesitated but nodded briefly, exchanging them for his battered running sneakers. Slipping on his jacket over his hoodie, he grabbed a backpack from the floor and hoisted it over his shoulders, as his mother did the same.

“Is everyone ready?” The older male asked. “Make sure we only have necessary items on hand. Tetsuya, did you lock up everything valuable?”

“I think so.”

“Good, because we won’t be coming back. The train leaves at 8 PM and it takes at least forty minutes to drive there, plus there’s more traffic than you can ever dream of.” Kuroko’s father opened the front door. “Let’s go.”

The Kuroko family shuffled outside quietly, clenching their teeth against the January air. As they piled into the car, Kuroko remembered something.

“Dad, Mom, can we pick up Kagami? He texted me a while ago saying that he no way of getting out of Tokyo.”

His mother paused in the passenger seat. “I think that would be a good idea. Mother, do you mind if Tetsuya’s friend sits in the back with you?”

“The more the merrier.” Kuroko’s grandmother replied lightly to her daughter.

Kagami did not live far from where they did. He lived closer to the school in a small apartment, which was closer to the city than where Kuroko’s house was. Once their car had pulled up to the apartment, Kuroko could make out the shape of Kagami’s large frame.

“Kagami!” Kuroko opened the door to the back seat. “Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I got you.” The taller teen said, ducking his head as he attempted to sit in the somewhat cramped space. He was carrying the Seirin gym bag, which bulged from the side and looked heavy. The backpacks the Kuroko family were carrying with them had taken up a considerable amount of space on the floor, so Kuroko had to resort to balancing his own on his lap.

“Thank you for helping me out.” Kagami said politely as Kuroko’s father put the pedal to the metal, beginning to speed along the dimly-lit road. “I don’t know where I would be without you guys.”

Kuroko could feel Kagami’s warmth, as they were sitting closely together. Not that it really meant anything - Kagami and him were friends in an almost brotherly way. He felt relaxed being near the larger teen, as they were commonly close together throughout the entirety of high school. If Kagami was here, then Kuroko felt content. Although it would be better if the entire Seirin team were here with him too, but that wasn’t exactly an option.

Except at this point, Kuroko didn't have many choices to make, except to stay alive and stay away from the war. He had the current option of fleeing Tokyo, which was probably the most productive idea. Very few homes had built-in bomb shelters, considering that most residences were built after the last world war. But for how long would he be away from home? He was supposed to be finishing school with his diploma before heading off to university in the city to pursue a career in education. He didn't suppose that his life would return to normal as easily as he hoped it would. Enlisting in the army was another idea, but Kuroko didn't consider himself very athletic nor willing to give up his life, nor would his parents agree to it, even if it would be considered honorable to join the army. 

He curled his fingers around the edge of his sleeve, subconsciously yanking it down. 

 _Asian traditions._ Kuroko thought, quirking his lip. 

So, he figured, it would probably be best to get settled and hang on for the ride. 

 

* * *

 

 

As expected, the train station was packed full. The parking lot was well beyond full, with cars parked in places that Kuroko wasn't sure was legal. Families carrying backpacks, suitcases, and bags full of their belongings and treasured possessions were already running towards the station, leaving behind their cars in the middle of the road. It seemed incredibly bizarre in a sense, even if it was completely logical. Even from within the car, Kuroko could hear their panicked voices. He shuddered, remembering what had happened earlier this morning, as the muffled voices outside the car still mirrored the voices of his classmates.  

"I think we'll have to stop here." Kuroko's father commented after reaching the blockade created by the other cars. 

The family exited the car, with Kuroko helping his grandmother with her cane. They made it across the parking lot with ease, although trying to get through the train station to buy their tickets was another story.  

"Five tickets to Hokkaido!" Kuroko's mother yelled and held up five fingers, trying to convey to the person sitting behind the glass the correct information. 

However, the train worker just shook her head, and gestured her to continue walking.

"We don't have any tickets left!" The worker replied. "But you don't need tickets to board the train. Please leave safely!" 

From behind, Kuroko's father ushered them forwards to move with the crowd of people. There was only one way everyone else was heading, and that was to the Hokkaido train line. He had walked through this train station before - hundreds of times, but he would never get over seeing so many people walking in just one direction. Kuroko practically didn't even have to walk; he was sure that the pushing would eventually propel him to the train. 

As they neared the platform, it was harder to worm their way through. The train had already arrived and was situated by several mobs of people trying to push their way into the entrances. Inside the train were countless of other people; Kuroko was sure that there was likely to be very little space left. He could only hope that there was some space to stand, much less sit, but if something were to happen to Tokyo _right now,_ _at this time,_ then he didn't even care if he had to cling to the sides of the train for that matter. 

Kuroko's father pushed his way through, holding on to Kuroko's grandmother by her sleeve.

"You boys doing alright?" He asked the two teens, although Kagami was already doing a grand job of parting a path large enough for the family to ease through. 

Kuroko nodded and Kagami gave him a thumbs up. 

"Form a line!" Kuroko's father turned away and shouted. “Hold on to each other and don’t let go!” 

With Kuroko's father as first in line, Kuroko's grandmother was next, and then Kuroko's mother, then Kagami, and finally Kuroko, who was a bit nervous being at the rear end of their impromptu line. He latched onto Kagami’s sweater for dear life, as if the swarming crowd around him were a tsunami of fear, agitation and confusion. He breathed in sharply, swallowing down the mild claustrophobia and focused on Kagami's broad back. 

It probably would’ve been better if Kuroko had packed some rope so that they could tie it to each other as a better guarantee that no one would get lost, but it was too late for that -

Gunfire echoed in the distance.

The families towards the back of the huge crowd surrounding the train stiffened, craning their heads to see if what they just heard was real. The families towards the front of the crowd, nearest to the train, continued to push, shove, and demand their rights to board the train, as if they did not hear anything.

The hairs on the back of Kuroko's neck stood up. He turned his head slightly, scanning the end of the room and seeing only a sea of dark-haired citizens, but was still unsure of the noises he just heard. The walls of the station allowed for a lot of echoing to occur, but he had traveled through this station enough times to know that that was not a regular noise. However, there was a chance that it was just a result of the roar of the crowd attempting to fight its way to the train, but then again, it could really be…

 _Gunshots_.

A line of people behind him dropped to the ground, all impaled by bullets. 

The screams, as usual, were deafening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))))))
> 
> First off - thank you for the kudos & comments on the previous chapter!! I didn't think people would enjoy it this much! 
> 
> I actually wrote out a chapter-by-chapter outline and I discovered that it's going to be one of those monster fics, so we're in for a ride. *cries* But I'm really excited to see how this turns out! 
> 
> Also, I think I rushed parts of this chapter, and some characters might seem a little OOC, but that might just be me... let me know in the comments if I should fix anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNINGS: 
> 
> Violence, gun/blood mentions for about 1/3 of this chapter.****

Bodies writhed and squirmed in pain on the tiled floors. Puddles of deep red, sticky liquid formed beneath their convulsing forms, tearing moans out of their throats.

The gunfire continued as Kuroko curled his hand around Kagami’s sweater to the point of almost tearing the fabric, but at this point he was completely driven on the instinct to _run_. _runrunRUN!_ People were pushing even harder to make it onto the train, though people already inside the train were frantically pushing the button to close the doors. Heated arguments exploded from either side, the train doors squeaking and groaning at the conflict.

 _NoNO!_ Kuroko was so close. _He was so damn close,_ he was still several meters away from the train but he could still feel Kagami’s sweater around his hand, tugging him wherever the family were heading. He screwed his eyes shut, refusing to see any more civilians drop around him. 

The sound of the machine gun bounced off the subway walls. Intermixing with the cries of families being separated by the overwhelming tide of terrified people, the gunfire drew closer, _closer_.

"Kuroko, get _down_!" A large hand shoved him to the side, one that he recognized to be Kagami's. 

Kuroko could hear the bullets singing past his ears, the wind of the small metal object parting the air with a _whoosh_! Goosebumps blossomed over his skin - imagine if he had been just a few more centimeters to his left - those bullets would have hit its target, nestling in his light blue hair. He gasped, heaving large breaths of air at the sickening thought of what would happen if Kagami hadn't pushed him out of the way.

"Kagami!" Kuroko shouted, grabbing onto Kagami's sleeve so that they could stay together. If there were any time that he didn't want his misdirection work, it was now. "What are you standing around for?" 

Kagami's face had gone pale, but was shaken out of his reverie. "Kuroko, I lost your family!" 

"What - what are you talking about? What do you mean you _lost m_ _y family?_ " 

The blue-haired teen detached himself from his friend immediately, trying to break the flow of the crowd of people who were running at full speed towards the train. Not a single blue-haired person in sight. 

"Where are my parents and grandmother?" Kuroko voice rose in volume. His extraordinary ability to keep calm was hardly existent now. 

He then turned to Kagami, struggling to keep the emotions from overwhelming his expressions. "Why did you let go of them?" He grabbed Kagami by the collar, shaking him violently. " _You weren't supposed to let go!"_ _  
_

Kagami looked immensely guilty, as if the stress and fear wasn't already overwhelming him, but Kuroko wasn't in the right mind to apologize for screaming at his friend. Grabbing his hand, he pushed through the cacophony, but it proved to be harder than it seemed. 

A large, tall man besides him desperately tried to claw his way between the gap between the two teens, screaming,"Please, I need to get on that train! Please, let me through!"

The larger man kept shoving against him against the crowd, with only Kuroko’s arm clutching to Kagami’s sweater as a single lifeline. He felt more like a leaf shaking violently in the winds of a hurricane, surrounded by hot air crackling with a distinct metallic scent.

“ _Let me through!_ ” The man roared again, though Kuroko refused to let go. He shielded his head from the man as the man continued his assault. He was much stronger than him, much stronger than the short, slender teen grappling onto his only way of getting out of the chaos.

“Kuroko!” came Kagami, roaring. “Stop, you bastard!”

A large, tan fist swung from the large basketball player in front of Kuroko, swinging into the man’s jaw. The man automatically slouched over, knocked out. He fell to his knees and slumped over.

“Kagami-kun!” Kuroko gasped.

“Come on, _move_ _!_ ” With a yell, Kagami wrenched his way through a line of people with brute force, reaching over heads to grab the handle on the side of the train door. 

"Wait, but my  _parents -_ " 

Another round of gunfire exploded behind Kuroko, each sound punctuating the hot air. He was so focused on _getting the fuck out_ every time the gunfire drew near, that when a heavy weight slammed into the smaller teen’s back, he nearly believed that he was shot.

Instead, Kuroko lost his grip on Kagami’s sweater, and fell.

Kuroko lost his grip on Kagami’s sweater.

“ _Kagami-kun!_ ”

“ _Kuroko!_ ”

The blue-haired teen crashed into the ground, pinned under the weight of someone significantly bigger than him. Wind knocked out of him, he sucked in air, but it did nothing to stop his heart from palpitating so quickly. In desperation, the blue-haired teen shoved the moaning body off, holding back vomit as the stranger’s blood dribbled onto his own jacket in undesirable splatters.

 _Oh my God._ Kuroko jerked back, accidentally kicking away the stranger in the stomach. He literally wanted to cry - not because there was a stranger's blood on his jacket, but because the bullets burrowed into the stranger's back could have been burrowing in  _his body._ If that stranger had not been behind him when those shots fired, he would have been dead. 

_Dead. DEAD._

Kuroko choked on the air at the thought. But the gunfire was drawing nearer and nearer, and he couldn't afford to wait around like sitting ducks. He willed himself to stay calm, and pushed himself up on his feet. "Kagami-kun, let's go!"

Nobody answered him.

"Kagami-kun?" 

His self control came crashing down when he found that Kagami was now nowhere in view. The tall, basketball player was likely swallowed up by the mass of fearful bodies that rushed away from the gunfire. 

“Kagami-kun!” Voice croaking, he stumbled around, trying to see over the heads and ducking low whenever he heard the gunfire. “ _Kagami-kun, where are you?_ ”

With misdirection came the awful notion that anyone who was trying to look for him would not be able to find him without some trouble. With his lack of presence, Kuroko found it hard to catch the attention of anyone, unless he tried to draw it to himself. But how could he try to draw attention to himself without being a target of flying bullets? 

 _I can’t find him_ , he thought, feeling true panic seizing his muscles. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He looked for the familiar red and black hair, the tallest of anyone in their group, but there was only a sea of usual dark colored hair. And with a terrifying realization - neither was there a single light-blue haired person in sight. _I can’t find Kagami-kun... I can’t find anyone!_

 _No. No, I need to stay calm._ He told himself, lunging behind a large column when he heard the bullets ricochet off the ceiling and the side of the train. There was a way out of everything, he believed, as he watched someone lunge into the crowd still piling around the sides of the train and the cowering people huddled against the train station walls, hiding behind anything thick enough to withstand the flying bullets. Worst case scenario was that he would be unlucky and killed. The next best thing was that everyone else was dead, which honestly didn't seem like the next best thing at all. Kuroko clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut against a tide of emotions. 

Someone hit the ground next to him, eliciting a yelp from the blue-haired boy, who stared in utter horror. The chest of the stranger heaved as blood spew in little droplets from their mouth, coating the slick floor with its stickiness. A sickening, wet choking noise emitted from the stranger as he seemed to be wheezing and coughing on something, before his shoulders convulsed and hand clawed at their throat in some kind of unrecognizable desperation, as if they were clinging onto the last thread of life. As Kuroko watched with wide, shocked eyes, the body stilled completely shortly afterwards. 

Head spinning, vomit nearly expelled itself from Kuroko's stomach as he pressed himself against the column, stealing another glance at the dead body. By the uniform the stranger wore and the gun in their hand, it seemed that they were from the army of some sort. But when he squinted, he caught the gleam of a pin on the left breast, recognizing it to be the Japanese flag.  _Reinforcements?_

“ _Tetsuya!_ ” His mother’s scream reached him through his spinning thoughts, somewhere to his right, where a small mob was situated around the train doors. He stumbled to his feet, though still crouching against the column. 

“ _Mom!_ ” He shouted back. Was he going to take his chances?

One look at the dead soldier next to him told him the answer.

His muscles ached as he made a break for it, trying to slip through the mob. He couldn't even tell where his mother was now, or anyone that he knew. A woman barreled into his side, sending him backwards into a few other people. His foot slipped in some liquid on the ground - he didn’t really want to know what his shoes touched - and he fell hard again, screaming when he found himself looking straight at cold, white faces of dead people, eyes still open, jaws still spread in a horrendous wail.

 _Dead._ The word rang in his mind, reverberating in his skull as he crawled away, shaking tremendously - _he_ _crawled like a pig_.

 _Dead. DEAD. Deaddeaddead._  

Somewhere overhead, Kuroko heard the shrill sound of the train whistle. Looking up, he came face to face to the train doors were closing.

_The train doors were closing, but he wasn’t on the train._

“Wait!” He yelled, his heart plunging to his stomach as he flung himself forward, as if he could somehow stop the vehicle from moving forward into the dark tunnel. “Please, stop!”

He tripped again as his foot was caught between two bodies, his shoelaces coming undone. Kuroko looked up in tears of frustration, watching as the train moved steadily across the rails. His breath stopped at his throat as he caught glimpse of familiar light-blue hair plastered against the window inside the train, and then the agonized face of his mother being framed by that hair. Her pale cheeks were glistening with tears and she covered her mouth with her hand in an inaudible scream of anguish, before she was pulled away by another man, his father. Besides her, an elderly woman gasped in shock and buried her face in her hands. Another tall figure appeared, and Kuroko saw the absolute horror on Kagami’s face, an expression he never wanted to see again, even if that meant leaving him behind. 

In a split second, the window vanished from view.

This was an absolute nightmare. 

“ _Wait!_ ” Kuroko cried, almost throwing himself against the train when a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him backwards.

“ _NO!_ ” He screamed again, struggling against the strong grip that wrenched him away. He heaved forwards, conscious of the person behind him grunting at his ferocity. "Let go of me!" 

The train picked up speed, the cold wind whipping past the station platform, before disappearing into the darkness. Kuroko pulled again, and this time the weight disappeared from his back. 

Kuroko spun around, a dark glare from his light blue eyes meeting resolute, dangerous dichromatic eyes with a pair of colors he had never seen before. 

The dichromatic eyes of regal gold and brilliant red belonged to a man slightly taller than him with short, crisp crimson hair covered with round head gear. His dark blue uniform was what one would expect from a high-ranking government or military official, with various badges, ribbons and decorated, golden epaulettes on each shoulder. On his left lapel was a gleaming pin of the Japanese flag. A dark spot of blood stained his otherwise pristine uniform. Power and absolute command seemed to ebb and flow around his very being, shrouding him in a sense of confidence and pure intimidation.

He also carried a rifle in one hand and several grenades at his belt, both most likely loaded. At its appearance, Kuroko took a wary step back, unsure of how to react to the red-haired man's presence. He didn't need to worry for long, because his vision began to swim before him, spots forming in the corners of his eyes. Kuroko stumbled as he felt a wall collide into his back, slipping and falling on his bum.

"Sir, please calm down." The red-haired man held up a hand in peace, putting down his rifle and approaching Kuroko slowly. "Are you hurt?" 

Kuroko panted heavily, inhaling to calm his rapidly beating heart. He shook his head, instead staring at his sneakers that were tinged red with someone's blood. His vision continued to blur unsteadily, and his head began to ache with dizziness. 

The red-haired man accepted his answer. "You will still need to report to the paramedics and depart on the bus outside. The shooting has all been subdued, so there are no potential dangers at the moment, but please..."  

Kuroko frowned. What did he just say? His ears were ringing again and now the room felt as if it were spinning in circles.

"...sir?" The red-haired man continued on, Kuroko only catching segments of his words. The blue-haired teen felt a heated wetness at the back of his neck, which he slapped a hand over in slight fear, and found that it was just sweat, and not blood. 

His light-blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling, darkness washing over the lights that seemed to blur and shake. There was a sensation of the hard ground hitting his shoulder and head as the world seemed to tilt sideways before him. The last thing he saw before he blacked out completely was bright, vivid red hair, and the faint sound of someone crying out, " _Sir!"_

 

* * *

 

 

When Kuroko came to, he was lying down on a bus seat with a warm blanket thrown over his form, the tremors of the wheels rolling over uneven surfaces jolting him awake. 

He could hear snores from over his shoulder as he struggled to make use of the dim lights from the street lights - or highway lights, in that matter, as he sat up to gaze around at his surroundings. His backpack was on the floor besides him, rattling as the metal walls of the bus rattled too. Searching for his phone, he sighed in relief as he pulled it from his jacket pocket. Turning it on revealed that it was already 10 PM, with a flood of messages and missed phone calls underneath the digital numbers. He blinked away the tears that occurred due to the bright light from the device. 

Shrugging off the blanket, he peered around the bus, finding only two people who seemed to be awake at this time - the bus driver, who was hunched over the wheel with his face barely visible in the mirror above him, and a girl sitting in the seat across from him, with another male teen leaning against her. 

The light from his phone caused the girl to look at the other side of the bus, where he sat. He watched her from the shadows, seeing her tuck her hair behind her ear and look back to the windows and the dark scenery that streaked past. It seemed as if she didn't quite notice him, or if she did, thought that he was someone irrelevant or unknown. 

As the highway lights continued to pass above them, he thought he caught the color of her hair, which was a pretty, pastel pink, a color which he knew very well. He scooted nearer to the aisle, trying to focus in when the lights shone on her face again. There was no doubt about the identity of the girl, that she was most likely - 

"Momoi-san?" 

The girl jumped in her seat, consequently jostling the teen who was sleeping on her. Her head snapped to the other side of the bus, where Kuroko tried to move into the light to not alarm her furthermore. 

Her large, magenta eyes searched the shadows and landed on Kuroko when the light illuminated his light-blue hair. 

"Tetsu-kun!" Momoi exclaimed softly. The teen, who was slipping further down her shoulder, yawned and rubbed his eyes. 

"Sorry, Ryou-kun." She shifted, rearranging him to lean on the back of the bus seat instead of her. "Go back to sleep, okay?" 

The teen nodded sleepily, and started to snore quietly after his head rested on the seat behind him. Momoi then turned her attention to her childhood friend, eyes shining in both happiness and surprise. "I'm sorry I didn't notice you sooner." She said apologetically. "I was one of the last people to board the bus with Ryou-kun here." 

Gesturing to the sleeping teen, she introduced him to Kuroko as Sakurai Ryou. He quietly noticed how she smiled at Sakurai fondly, but made no attempt to voice his observation. 

"Were you two trying to get to Hokkaido?" He asked, leaning against the seat.

She paused. "Well, this bus was originally supposed to go to Hokkaido, like many of the other trains and busses." She told him. "We were about to leave when a soldier ran up to our bus and asked if we had spare room because there was a big shooting at the train station with lots of victims in need of transportation, and we did. I think that's where you were brought in, Tetsu-kun."

"But according to the news, one of the countries Japan is fighting against is occupying part of the area that is along the interstate going north to Hokkaido. It would be too dangerous to travel into a fighting zone, so we are headed for a camp near Shizuoka." 

Kuroko's blood chilled, thinking of his family and Kagami. "I see. Then what about the train that's going to Hokkaido?" 

She shrugged. "The internet went down an hour ago. I heard from someone that some country has gotten a hold of our satellites and are rigging our transmission and reception so that nobody here can contact each other, so that Japan would be completely disconnected from each other."

Kuroko bit his lip. He hadn't realized that this war had become this serious. When he checked his phone, he found that indeed, the bars at the top of the screen had become a faded blue color, which typically signified that internet was not available. Now he couldn't even reply to his family's text messages or call them to let them know that he was safe.  

The two of them fell silent, listening to the the rhythmic breathing of civilians sleeping or resting around them. Cars whizzed past them on the highway, most of which were traveling on the same side of the road with them, away from Tokyo. The other side of the highway traveling towards Tokyo was completely empty, a black space of nothing. 

Kuroko turned around in his seat so that he wasn't facing Momoi anymore, needing a bit of time to consider his situation. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the  _Emergency_ sign above his head. If this bus were going to Shizuoka in the Chubu District, and if his family and friend were heading for Hokkaido District...those two places were certainly very far apart, with both the former and the latter being on either southern and northern sides of Tokyo. At this point, there was no way for him to reach anyone he was familiar with, besides Momoi and Sakurai. Perhaps some other teammates and classmates, should he come across them...but the chances of seeing them were close to the single digits, considering Japan's rather large population. 

He thought back to the shooting at the train station, automatically flinching at the images of dead faces in his mind. He surrendered himself to a racing heartbeat and a nauseous sensation in his gut, which he attempted to push away with deep breaths.  _In, out._ He told himself.  _Just...breathe._

That memory had to be shoved to the back of his mind, he noted to himself, forcing himself to think of something else. He looked at Momoi, whose attention had zeroed in on the sleeping Sakurai, a question rising in his head.  

"Momoi-san, where is your family?" 

She blinked, looking down at her feet. No words came out of her until a few moments later, after she had taken a deep breath. "It's complicated." She finally replied. "Actually, some of my family members are currently residing in the Shizuoka camp at the moment. My parents both work in the medical field so they were automatically requested to serve as nurses at the front line." 

Her voice seemed to wilt at the edges like a flower before the coming winter, her magenta eyes looking distant even in the darkness cloaking the bus. Kuroko swallowed, quietly reminded that he wasn't the only one suffering here. 

"Do you remember my friend from Touou, a basketball player named Aomine Daiki?" Momoi started up a fresh topic. "You might remember him from some of your games from the Interhigh and Winter Cup..." 

Kuroko nodded, thinking of tan skin, dark blue hair and eyes, and a pearly white, arrogant sneer in a basketball court from his memories. "I do. What about him?" 

"Dai-chan's been recruited, to say the least." She said slowly, tucking a loose strand behind her ear again. 

Kuroko's imagination of the tall basketball player morphed into one who was wearing a camouflage uniform, wielding a gun as he marched alongside hundreds of other soldiers not much older than he was (which was probably a year or two older than Kuroko). Sweat from exertion and anxiety alike staining his clothes even if he were standing in line with everyone else in absolute discipline, reacting only when being ordered to react...

"Because of his athletic abilities, he was one of the first to be conscripted. It happened a few months ago...I know it doesn't matter to you, since you've never met him properly before but..."

Momoi seemed agitated when she thought some more, tsking under her breath. Her eyebrows furrowed into an ugly scowl. "He couldn't even refuse." She whispered, tearing her eyes away from the blue-haired teen, who was listening patiently. "He didn't have the money to pay his way out. His parents aren't even involved with his life. He's still alive, but now that the entire country has become a mess and he's probably fighting in the front lines right now, by himself..." 

Her composed exterior began to break down before him. "I'm sorry," She began to repeat. "I'm just _stressed_ right now. I've been stressed ever since he packed his bags and left in November. Dai-chan may be a star at basketball but the battlefield is an entirely different place than a court. What if he does something stupid, or what if he gets himself hurt? What if he gets lazy and skips training? Oh God, that actually sounds like a legit thing he would do..."

Kuroko could still hear her talking to herself, mumbling about how a battlefield didn't have a referee to make sure things were fair, that Aomine couldn't just use his dumb Zone abilities to blow away opponents, that if he did think that way she would smack him over the head...she hugged herself, biting her bottom lip. The blue-haired teen remained quiet, wanting to help but not knowing how.

But knowing Momoi, she would always bounce right back, unable to be overcome by her pain, frustration, anxiety, and more. She was the epitome of sunshine to Kuroko, a force of nature strong enough to break through even the darkest of clouds at daytime. Her mental strength was always an amazing trait of hers, in both intelligence and emotional aspects. He greatly admired that part of her, sometimes wishing that if he hung around her enough, she would rub that off on him. Certainly, the pink-haired girl would not mind; after all, she had adored Kuroko since they were children. 

She sighed heavily, realizing that she was ignoring her friend who already had low presence to begin with. "Sorry. I just can't stop worrying about him, knowing that he's such a reckless person at heart."

"I don't know Aomine-kun personally." Kuroko spoke up. "But what I do know about him is that he _is_  very ambitious and reckless, which may not serve well in the long run." 

Before Momoi's optimism could deflate completely, he kept going. "Aomine-kun is also strong. He may be audacious and brash, but his determination to get through anything, once he's bent on achieving his goal, is amazing. It trumps everything that can hold him back. This, I know just by observing him on the court. I'm sure he won't give up without a fight, Momoi-san. Please don't worry about him." 

Her mouth dropped open slightly, but closed and formed a smile. "Thanks, Tetsu-kun." She said softly. "What would I do without you?" 

The rhetorical question hung in the air as the two friends laughed a little, enjoying the quiet. Highway lights continued to pass overhead, shining periodically on their faces, a brief halo of brightness surrounding their hair. For now, there wasn't even the drone of warplanes to bother them, and their conversation had long shifted from the war to their daily lives about school, gossip about classmates, funny stories from the basketball locker rooms, what they had done over New Year's. For a moment, as the bus advanced towards Shizuoka, two friends shared their lives together, their hearts flourishing in the brevity of the peace. A few miles away, a war raged in all its thunderous ferocity as the screams of dying men faded in the distance, as this was an event that lay as an inevitable obstacle for their future. 

 

* * *

 

_Earlier that day..._

 

The scraping of heels hitting road salt and asphalt was anything but a quiet noise as a red-haired man patrolled through the base, cold dichromatic eyes parting a hole through a crowd of soldiers running laps around the barracks. In a sea of camouflage uniforms, he was a single dark-blue speck flanked by two soldiers, ends of his heavy winter trench-coat flapping in the breeze. His thin eyebrows furrowed slightly as every subordinate of his stood to attention, saluting him immediately with utmost respect. After he departed, the soldiers returned to their previous actions, but whispered excitedly amongst each other about the man who had just passed through. 

"Aren't they so cute?" One of the two soldiers keeping in stride with his lieutenant tossed an amused glance at the trainees as they approached a building with steps in front of it. His breath evaporated into the air, frosty January wind sweeping it away. The soldiers guarding the front entrance snapped their right hands to their forehead, bowing low at the three men and opening the door for them. 

"Don't call the trainees cute, Kotarou." 

A tall, sandy-haired soldier laughed, the light-hearted sounds bouncing across the marble floors and high ceilings with a single, large chandelier hanging from the top. Extravagance was not a common concept in the Japanese military, except for the lobbies of the buildings that harbored the offices of many top-tier, high ranking military officers and generals. Several officials gathered near a corner looked up to see the three men making their way down the hall, dipping their heads in respect. 

"Ah, don't be so uptight, Akashi!" Hayama Kotarou said, his cheer spreading like a contagious disease that most people tried to steer clear of as they turned left into a small hallway with several offices. 

"You are  _so_ loud." Another soldier flanking the lieutenant hissed, dark green eyes rimmed with long, black lashes narrowing at Hayama. "Turn it down a notch!" 

Hayama hummed in response, sneaking in a quiet " _Yeah, yeah, Reo-nee,"_ as the three men stopped in front of a large door at the end of the hall, guarded by two more soldiers carrying rifles on their shoulders. 

The soldier guards bowed at the sight of Akashi, who took off his black military dress cap, smoothing over his red hair with a gloved hand, though it probably wasn't necessary since he recently had it cut short. A second later, the large doors opened, and both Hayama and Mibuchi flanking Akashi sealed their lips, knowing to be silent when standing outside the room of the General of the Japanese Army. 

Akashi Masaomi, in all glory and magnificence, stood by the windows that covered half the entire length of the wall across from the large doors that just opened for his only son. His dress cap lay on a neatly organized desk that faced the doors, next to a cup of tea. Two golden braids hung from polished epaulettes on his shoulders, connecting to a small clip underneath his left lapel, glittering in the sunlight. The light outlined the simple brown hair and his fair skin, though seeped into his most prominent aging features on his face. Wrinkles lined the corner of his eyes and his forehead, with small strands of gray hair visible in his sideburns. Despite the toil and stress the war has taken upon him, he stood tall, broad shoulders forced back in muscle memory from working in the military field for decades. His dual red eyes turned to gaze at his son, who left behind his two most trusted men in the narrow hallway behind him. 

The doors clicked shut as father and son stood alone in the room. The legacy of the prestigious Akashi family known for its military supremacy for hundreds of years in Japan had been passed down to just two biologically related men. To them, victory was always within their grasp. Any farther would be considered shameful and humiliating. 

Akashi Seijuurou's right hand was at his forehead, angling at a perfect forty-five degree angle. He sank to a low bow before rising back up a second later. "Good morning, Father." He said, knowing that the walls were soundproof. Otherwise, he would have called him by his official title. "You requested my presence." 

Masaomi's eyes, always resolute, fell to the desk in front of him. One lone, sealed manila folder filled with top-secret documents sat atop the smooth, dark surface. 

"I did." He replied shortly. "There has been reports of foreign warplanes and warships moving in from the eastern seaboard of Japan. I received a radio transmission from the navy last night claiming that the Americans have begun to move in. Therefore, Seijuurou - "

Taking up the manila folder, he handed it off to his son, who gripped it tightly in one hand. 

"Should our aviation branches fail to ward off the enemy, I will need you to accompany Major Nijimura Shuzou. You need to review the documents in that manila folder, as it contains the original messages from the navy and the most recent information we have on the American air force and navy." 

The younger Akashi nodded, never taking his gaze off his father. "Would it be necessary to discuss our plans with you, Father?" 

Masaomi paused, and shook his head. Seijuurou took it as a confirmation that his father believed he would be babying him too much if he helped his son during missions. 

"In addition to this mission." Masaomi added on. "I have decided to carry out the compulsory enlistment of all able Japanese citizens eighteen years and older, including those who reside in evacuee camps. This is scheduled for the first of February. A waiver will be provided to those who can pay their way out. There will be no need to send out anymore letters to promising to-be trainees, so you will see to it as soon as possible." 

Seijuurou studied his father, a little taken aback at the sudden, bold statements. "If I may ask a question, Father..." He chose his words carefully. "What is your reasoning behind this decision?" 

Masaomi's gaze flickered to his son to a cup of warm tea on his desk. He picked up the fine china, sipped the bittersweet liquid. "What do you think is my reasoning for this decision?" 

The atmosphere between the father and son had always been a tense one. It had been quite a while since Seijuurou could remember when things weren't so strict and detached between them, and he could only think of one person who had gifted them this with her disappearance. 

"You suspect the civilians." Seijuurou said after a moment of thought. "You wish to enlist all of them because the civilians were initially against Japan entering the war, because they knew that Japan was a cause of this war in some ways. Even if they have the right of free speech, you feel as if you will have to control them at some point to ensure Japan's victory. A nation must have inner stability before it confronts the outer forces, and you would do anything to achieve that." 

Masaomi's lips curled upwards, and for a second, Seijuurou breathed an inner sigh of relief. His father was about to reply to him when a rapid succession of five knocks in a very particular pattern thudded against the doors to the office, distracting both men. 

"Come in." The elder Akashi said loudly. The doors swung open to revealed a young woman with chestnut hair, hugging a briefcase to her chest. Seijuurou caught the bewildered looks of Hayama and Mibuchi before the doors closed in their faces. 

Her short, windswept hair, flushed cheeks and slightly crooked glasses gave the indication that she had just ran all the way to Masaomi's office - in high heels too, as her shoes clicked and clacked across the shiny floor. 

"Sorry for the intrusion." She said, moving past Seijuurou to approach his father without hesitation. Her comfort level with the two men was rather extraordinary. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, but I must speak to the General. I have some very urgent news." 

"Of course, Aida-san."

Aida Riko, who was one of the only people capable of staring down a man so great as Akashi Masaomi, dropped the briefcase onto his desk without thinking twice. She had more guts than half the men who served under him, in Seijuurou's opinion. At the same time, she was Masaomi's personal assistant - and she was pretty damn good for a woman who had just gotten out of university. There wasn't terribly much to complain about her, even if one wanted to, because anything someone did Aida could do three times better, whether it were politics, warfare or basic responsibilities. She straightened, saluting and bowing quickly.

If Masaomi was affronted by Aida's slightly demanding attitude, he did not show it. Aida opened the briefcase, pulling out a piece of paper. She tapped on a specific part of the page and showed it to him. Immediately, Masaomi's lips thinned. 

Frowning slightly, Seijuurou cautiously stepped forward, fearing the worst. His father was beginning to grow slightly pale in the face, as his red eyes darted across the paper close to the speed of light. 

"Tokyo was bombed by enemy warplanes. Just a minute ago." Aida explained to him. Seijuurou froze, eyes widening. "At the moment, there are reports of missiles bringing down some of the largest buildings in the city. Only the local authorities in Tokyo are managing the situation, so Major Nijimura has gone ahead to deploy some troops, although it will take them approximately fifteen minutes by plane. I have already alerted the evacuee camps that there will be an extreme influx of civilians entering their area, as well as asking other local authorities to control the flow of traffic as there might be a panic along the roads exiting Tokyo. You might get a lot of phone calls within the next few minutes."

True to her word, a phone rang on the desk. Aida scuttled to the side, picking up and speaking into the receiver.

Masaomi folded the paper to put in his pocket. Taking his cap from his desk, he fitted it over his head, as his son did the same. 

"Seijuurou, change of plans. I need you to be at Tokyo right now, but do not forget about the tasks I gave you. I expect you to be at the Shizuoka evacuee camp immediately afterwards to begin recruiting new trainees."

"Yes, Father." His son dipped his head in obedience, striding towards the door. His fingers were tingling now as he still held onto the manila folder; this was his first mission in a long time. The last time Seijuurou had been on mission, he had - well, he had done a lot of things that he couldn't believe he did. 

As soon the younger Akashi stepped over the threshold into the hallway, Hayama and Mibuchi immediately latched onto his side. 

"Aida-san came _flying_ down the hall!" Hayama gushed out, nearly vibrating out of his uniform. "What the hell did she have to say?"  

Mibuchi prodded for attention on the other side. "Sei-chan! What happened in Tokyo? There were rumors, but..." 

They moved down the hall, Akashi answering neither of them. Multiple officers were already running around as frantically as his heart was beating. Aida really did know what she was doing. As soon as they left the building, pacing down the steps and to a sleek black car waiting below, Akashi turned around to speak. 

"Tokyo was bombed." Hayama's usual cheer dropped and Mibuchi swallowed.

Behind him, the driver opened the door. Akashi rested his hand on the side of the car with the other nearly crumpling the manila folder. "I need you two to gather your platoons and head for Tokyo. I will be not be able to get there until tonight as I have duties to fulfill. Report to Nijimura for any concerns." 

"Wait, Sei-chan - " Akashi was already inside the car as the door slammed promptly in their faces.

"Hey, Akashi!" Hayama knocked against the transparent barrier, unable to see through the heavily tinted glass. The window never moved down, although the car never moved from its original spot. The sandy-haired man didn't know if Akashi was listening to him, but he shouted it anyways.

" _Good luck!"_

The car engine started up, puffs of smoke rising from behind into the cold winter air. Hayama stepped back, allowing the vehicle to move forward and drive away, leaving behind the smell of gasoline. For a brief second, the two men thought they saw the car slow down for a short second, as if the hesitation represented Akashi's thought processes. And knowing Akashi, that probably was the case. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you all liked this chapter. 
> 
> I tried not to make Masaomi and Seijuurou's scene too redundant since it basically covers the morning period before the bombing in the last chapter...
> 
> If anyone wants some kind of clarification, I have an ongoing list of everyone who might appear w/ their current ages, since this definitely doesn't follow canon:  
> Kuroko/Sakurai - 17  
> Kagami/Tatsuya/Momoi - 18  
> Aomine/Murasakibara/Kise - 19  
> Akashi/Midorima - 20  
> Riko/Hyuuga/Kiyoshi/Izuki/Mibuchi/Hayama/Nebuya/Hayakawa - 22  
> Kasamatsu/Hanamiya - 24  
> Imayoshi/Haizaki/Nijimura - 25
> 
> But thank you for all the comments!! ((；ﾟДﾟ) I literally live off of people's enthusiasm and it makes me ecstatic to see that people like it. 
> 
> Also...does anyone want to be my beta reader? Sorry, I don't know where to look for one :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** WARNINGS: 
> 
> Violence + brief descriptions of gore in the italicized region in the beginning **** 
> 
> (IMO it's just a teeny tiny bit, but I'll just keep this here.)

_He sprinted through the forest, each strained breath heaving in and out of his lungs, his throat raw from sucking in large gulps of air and smoke alike. White-hot flames snapped at his heels like wild hyenas, needing just one slip, one branch to trip over, one momentary mistake to consume him._

_He squinted, peering through foliage alight with black plumes, struggling to keep up with the man in front of him. He could barely make out the man’s brilliant red hair amongst the flickering flames, hair as red as the fires that were bringing down ancient trees in their wake. His dark blue uniform was tattered in several places and crusted with deep red liquid. The golden epaulettes on his shoulders were scratched and grimy, along with the white belt that no longer held its shine._

_“Tetsuya!” The man shouted over the rumble of the fire, his voice a lion’s roar that momentarily dulled the noisy crackle of blackened wood. “Find the others once you get out of this forest and don’t stop running!”_

Running? _Kuroko wondered._ Why would we need to keep running if the fire does not stretch beyond the forest?

_Kuroko found his answer when two holes appeared on the back of the red-haired man. The force of the small cylinders of metal tore through him as he slammed to the dirt, mud and charcoal, moaning and crying in pain. Kuroko immediately dropped to the ground, pressing his bare hands over the two bullet wounds as blood leaked through his pale fingers._

_The red-haired man thrust him away with a hefty push, sending him sprawling. The heat of the fire nearly licked at his face. “Go!” He hissed, gritting his teeth through the pain. “They’re coming!_ ”

_Kuroko refused, latching onto the red-haired man again. “I won’t leave you!”_

_Lifting one arm over his shoulder and propped him up unsteadily, they began to run through the forest together, with the smaller man supporting the larger man’s weight. The heat pressed in on them from all sides, the maze of dying trees and underbrush encasing them in a cage of fire. Kuroko could hear the crackle and hiss of crumbling wood from all around, but aimlessly running through enemy territory was better than being caught up in the devil’s embrace.They continued onward._

_Smoke darker than nightmares billowed in front of them. In panic and desperation, Kuroko inhaled a lungful - and nearly doubled over into a coughing fit. His boots caught on a tree root and he tripped, releasing the red-haired man and falling into the darkness before him. The taste of burnt embers and metallic blood lingered on his tongue as his lungs absorbed the obsidian air, a fragrance of a different kind. Eyes stinging terribly, salty water leaking from his pale blue eyes, he screamed for help, for mercy, but found none. His hands shot out, scrabbling for anything that would drag him out of the sea of soot clouds._

Please, _his thoughts drifted across his hazy mind as he squeezed his burning eyes shut. He pressed his face to the dry earth, feeling the warm pebbles underneath his body. The fires from hell had finally reached him, as he felt its scorching fingers brush his skin, ready to engulf him._ I can’t do this. Where are you when I need you?

_“Tetsuya!”_

_Rough hands grabbed him, lifting him from the black abyss. Forcing his eyes to open, he squinted to see dichromatic eyes searching his face for a sign of life._

_“Tetsuya…” He murmured, slumping backwards. He laid against a tree trunk, weakly hugging the blue-haired teen to his chest. “I couldn’t find you, my phantom.”_

_Kuroko gazed up, breathless. The blaze surrounding the red-haired man’s head was a deadly halo, a terrifying breed of man and devil. The gold of his right eye looked crimson in the light as he looked to the sky, a brief glimmer of azure in the midst of fire._

_So_ _ft lips pressed against his forehead. Kuroko jolted in surprise at the gentleness of the gesture._ I must be mistaken, _he thought dully, relishing the feel of the man’s strong arms around his limp body - a barrier between him and his impending death._

He is no devil. But then…what is he? _Who_ is he?

_He struggled to find words, parting painfully chapped lips to ask for a na -_

_A fresh bullet knocked his head backwards, collapsing the skull of the man with red hair, spraying him with things he never wanted to see._

_Kuroko screamed._

_Fiery branches fell around him as he tore himself away from the corpse, sparks creating a new blaze around them. Sweltering winds swept him into a bed of fire as he continued to scream and cry, writhing in pain and heartbreak as the world grew red, red as fire, red as the man with red hair and red eyes, red as the color of death._

 

 

 

"Kuroko-san!"

Kuroko sprung forward from a tangled cocoon of blankets, his hair and t-shirt clinging to his sweaty forehead and back, respectively. He heaved in cool air, flinging the suddenly too hot covers off of him and eliciting a yelp from Sakurai, who was seated on the futon besides him.

"Tetsu-kun!" Momoi was all over him, planting her hands on the mattress, her magenta eyes wide and bright even in the darkness of the room. "What happened?"

"I - " Kuroko started, but she hushed him.

"Stay where you are! I'll get you some water." She rushed to the door, leaving it ajar.

Despite his trembling, Kuroko gripped the edges of the blankets, trying to ground himself in reality in order to calm himself. He was in the Shizuoka camp. He was in the living quarters where everyone was still sleeping, aside from Sakurai and Momoi. He was safe, he was okay, he was completely fine. Nobody was going to hurt him. There was no fire, there would never be any fire, as long as he stayed away from that man. It was just a nightmare, he repeated in his mind, still shaking. _Just a nightmare, just a nightmare, just a nightmare._

"Did you have a nightmare?" He heard Sakurai from his left.

He looked to his side, finding the mop of mousy brown hair staring at his twiddling thumbs. "I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to..."

"I did." Kuroko admitted, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Now he stunk, and he had just taken a shower after arriving to the camp a few hours ago. Also, the futon was a little damp, with the bedding thrown about messily - no doubt his work of art. "I'm sorry for waking you both up."

Momoi reappeared with a bottle of water that she had presumably taken from the vending machine outside their small, cramped room. "Don't say that, Tetsu-kun." She held out her hand with the bottle. "It's been a rough night. For all of us."

Kuroko took it from her, gulping down the cold liquid. He remembered the smoke rubbing his throat raw from his nightmare, and shivered.

"I need to use the bathroom." He said, shaking himself out of his thoughts.

He brought himself into the hallway outside, stumbling around ineffectively until he found the bathroom at the end. Closing the door behind him, he felt for the light switch and squinted when bright light poured into the room. He leaned against the wall, eyes drawn to the mirror above the sink.

If his ghostly complexion was anything to go by, then he was a little more than stressed out. He was still sweating, as a matter of fact, so he dragged himself to the sink to splash water over himself. It did nothing but effectively rattle his brain, causing him to grip his head as a wave of dizziness hit him.

 _This is not working out for me_ , he thought miserably. Groaning softly, he could already feel the bile at the back of his throat. He moved quickly to the toilet, flipping up the lid and seat.

Hugging the rim, Kuroko vomited.

 

* * *

  

“Would you like more green tea, Kuroko-san?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sakurai-kun.”

Golden-green liquid swirled around in his small cup, rising to the top. As Sakurai set down the pre-filled teapot on the long table where all other evacuees sat Kuroko picked at his boiled carrot wedge from his miso soup, gloomily wishing there were more condiments to go with it. But when he heard a baby choke on its formula and break into a long, shuddering wail at the table behind him, he figured that he could probably live without salt and pepper.

Color-wise, the camp looked exactly like salt and pepper - white with every shade of brown. Not that Kuroko had expected a lot in the first place. When they first arrived the night before, he had been more exhausted than anything. They had to wait in a massive line to sign up for their room, before being paraded through the entire camp in order to find out their room had only one bed and a small armchair.

Momoi had insisted on Kuroko and Sakurai taking the bed together while she bundled up on the chair, saying that it was ‘the only way’, since she was a girl. What Momoi wasn’t aware of, and what Kuroko saw instantaneously, was the small blush that rose to her face at the idea of sleeping in the same bed as Sakurai. Kuroko knew that Momoi and Sakurai were _very_ close in lots of ways, even if Momoi had a crush on Kuroko since they were kids. That aside, Kuroko was secretly grateful that he was able to sleep on the bed, and the pink-haired girl did not complain at all when she woke with small lines on her face from the wrinkled armchair.

Breakfast, at best, was a hassle to obtain. The cafeteria at the evacuee camp was probably one of the busiest places Kuroko had ever been to, with several hundred families either waiting in line at the kitchen, trying to find seats, or wolfing down their mediocre-at-best breakfast. About half the evacuees were from the Tokyo region, although he had met many who had arrived from other places too. Even if the internet and phone lines were down for civilians, he could still overhear bizarre conversations, rumors, and gossip about politicians and the government - that the war was going to turn nuclear, that Tokyo was completely in flames and ruin, that some country was going to close in and invade Japan.

Kuroko had often toyed with the latter idea in his head, trying to speculate what he would do if a foreign country were to invade Japan. Would he run and hide, or stand his ground and fight? Or would he submit to the greater power, but remain unsure of what exactly he would be submitting his entire life to? Call him too traditional, but he wasn’t even sure if his dignity would let him allow someone to take control of his life like that.  

But no, that would be hypocritical. The volunteer enlistment sheets were posted on every wall, and he had seen several other guys his age already writing their names down. He had heard the whispers of old grannies and adults, about how when _they_ were teenagers, they were forced to enlist in the second world war. He could feel the burning, critical eyes of society on his back, their judgement on his negligence towards his responsibilities and duties as a young man and citizen who should feel more patriotic and willing to sacrifice his life for his country.

“Kuroko-san, are you feeling okay?” From across the table, Sakurai’s round, brown eyes gazed at the blue-haired teen. “You look kind of...sick?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He said, stuffing the carrot wedge into his mouth to prove his point.

Sakurai nodded quickly and retracted back to his side of the table, digging into his boiled eggs. As Kuroko chewed on the soggy, plain carrot, he felt a little bad for making the other teen worry. However, he didn’t have time to apologize when the brown-haired teen spotted someone.

“Momoi-san!” Sakurai suddenly waved. “Over here!” A few seconds later, the pink-haired girl took her seat besides Kuroko, carrying a tray of her breakfast.

“Everyone seems frantic about getting their food.” She commented, sipping her tea and glancing back at the kitchen area of the cafeteria. “Probably because of the food shortages.”

Both Kuroko and Sakurai glanced at her in surprise and concern, though the phrase rung a bell in Kuroko’s short-term memory.

“Food...shortages?” Sakurai asked nervously, subconsciously beginning to smudge the pale yellow yolk onto the plate, under his chopsticks.

“All over Japan.” Momoi confirmed, stabbing her sausage with a plastic fork. “Politicians were talking about it yesterday, on the news. When I last saw the report, apparently some Middle Eastern country had cut off all of our imports and exports, so we are close to being stranded as a group of islands.”

“The Middle East?” Sakura mumbled to himself. “Why are we even involved with them?”

“But we have rice paddies, don’t we?” Kuroko interjected. “It’s one of our largest crops.”

“In which about twenty percent of Japanese land is suitable for agriculture.” She replied. “And there’s a possibility that we will lose farmland to the war for setting up boot camps for soldiers and fighting battles. Otherwise, we will have to rely on what little livestock we currently have, or the fishing industry.”

Both males looked to Momoi’s tray, which harbored an impressive supply of sausages. “So…” Sakurai started, getting up. “I’m going to get more food.”

“I will to.” Kuroko agreed and left his seat. “Do they have any vanilla milkshakes?”

“They do.”

The blue-haired teen made a beeline for the other side of the cafeteria before disappearing into the crowd, leaving behind a bewildered Sakurai who trailed in Kuroko’s general direction. “Where did he go?” Sakurai blurted out.

Momoi grinned, returning to her breakfast. She waved her fork towards Sakurai’s left, gesturing to him to find Kuroko over there. The brown-haired teen looked around, confusion as vibrant as the small blush on his face when Momoi laughed at his expression.

However, the blush on his face did not remain for long. When a familiar-looking soldier loomed over him, Sakurai paled immediately. Momoi, who was watching the entire ordeal unfold, suddenly gasped and stood up.

“A-Aomine-kun?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely a filler chapter, but exciting things are planned for the next chapter, so stay tuned ;D Also, there will be a lot of explanations about the logistics of the war, so everything will begin to make sense. 
> 
> hUUUGEE shoutout to the lovely NeverConformEver for beta-ing!! This fic FINALLY has a sense of direction and is going to be six times more angstier than I originally planned it to be (so really, thank her) 
> 
> Comments, kudos, crit...


	5. Chapter 5

A small tomato, which had been dropped from the fingers of a much-too-tall purple-haired giant sitting next to him, wobbled on Kuroko’s plate. Slowly and casually, another tomato was plucked and dropped, rolling over and nudging the other near the center of the plate.

“Murasakibara-kun, I don't want any more tomatoes.”

Purple eyes blinked. “I remember seeing Kuro-chin during the Winter Cup last year. He was so small and thin.” The giant replied. “Kuro-chin needs to eat more.”

Kuroko ignored the comment on his size, opting instead to gaze impassively at his plate before replying.

“Thank you, but I’ve already eaten. You should try them. They’re very delicious.”  

“I don’t like tomatoes, Kuro-chin.” He drawled, the unsurprising response eliciting a well-deserved sigh. Then the purple-haired giant paused in his actions, hand hovering over his plate as he seemed to come to some kind of inner dilemma. “Kuro-chin, may I call you Kuro-chin?”

“Well.” Kuroko said flatly. “You already are.”

“Does that mean I can call you Kurokocchi?” Blonde hair and golden eyes rushed to Kuroko’s other side like an overexcited puppy possessing a disturbing amount of energy, eagerly latching on to his arm and pushing him closer to the giant that sat on his other side.

“Yes, Kise-kun.” Kuroko replied, reminding himself to keep his patience. “If you take these tomatoes.” He slid his plate towards the blonde until it was an arm’s length away, in an attempt to regain what little personal space he had to begin with.

Seated at the long cafeteria table were three abnormally tall soldiers, each one with either navy blue, gold or purple hair. Adding Momoi and Sakurai, Kuroko was beginning to wonder if he had joined a group of human Skittles. It was probably too late to shake them off now, given that Murasakibara was beyond captivated with the sight and smell of so much food and Kise was already too far gone with the smaller, blue-haired teen to want to leave. At this point, Kuroko and Sakurai - who were both feeling a little bit awkward - had to more or less wait it out.

The rainbow heads currently indulging in their breakfasts would not have gathered if Momoi hadn’t (forcibly) dragged Aomine to the table, sat him down and proceeded to yell at him for a month-long lack in communication. Though Kuroko didn’t know Aomine well, he did know that he had never seen a petite teenage girl talk down a soldier before (not to the point where he was throwing his hands up and asking her to chill out, at least).   

Kuroko sucked in air, beholding the fury of Momoi Satsuki rise beyond cautionary levels. Nobody could tell Momoi Satsuki to “chill out” - not even childhood friends.

That is, except for Sakurai.

“Ah, S-Satsuki-san! I’m sorry, but please sit down!” The brown-haired teen spoke up. His voice, timid yet remarkably loud, broke through. His face visibly burned when Aomine shot a look at Kuroko, mouthing: _what the fuck?_

The use of her given name came more of a shock to Momoi than anyone else. She lit up like a pink-colored light bulb, matching the shade of her hair. Immediately she sat down, shoving her hands under her thighs, laughing weakly.

“Right, ah, Ryou-kun.” She said, smiling at Sakurai.

 _Ryou-kun?_ Aomine continued to mouth. Invisible question marks seemed to float above his head, indicating his confusion. Kuroko and the rest, who had a better idea of what was going on between the two, didn’t bother answering his silent question.  

“Anyways,” Kuroko interrupted, eager to escape the awkwardness that had settled over them, “Would you all be willing to join us for lunch as well?”

The tan-skinned soldier shook his head, growing serious. “We - Kise, Murasakibara and I - were sent here to help organize an announcement that’s happening tomorrow. We don’t have a lot of time to spare. Sorry.”

“Announcement?” Momoi parroted. “What announcement?”

Murasakibara looked up, pausing mid-chew of a piece of salmon he stole from Kuroko’s plate. Kuroko nearly missed the way his eyes flitted to Kise, who swallowed, and Aomine, whose lips thinned.

“Ah, it’s just an announcement that a lieutenant is going to make.” Kise jumped in. “You’ll probably hear Akashicchi talk about boring stuff.”

“Akashi…?” Kuroko tested out the name, purposefully leaving off the - _cchi_ suffix. “Who is that?”

“You don’t know who he is, Tetsu-kun?” Momoi asked. Kuroko’s gaze fell to his plate, trying to recall the name but failing to.

“Should I?”

“Akashi Seijuurou is a name you should know, especially since the war is getting exciting now.” Aomine interjected smoothly. “You’ll hear him a lot. And see him a lot too, maybe.”

Aomine continued to gesture his own facial features to prove his point. “He’s short, has red hair and either red or dichromatic eyes depending on his mood. Freaky guy, that one.”

 _Red hair?_ Kuroko wondered, trying to jog his memories with the familiar description.

_Red eyes?_

“Wait!” Momoi suddenly exclaimed, her jaw dropping and eyes lighting up. “He’s from Rakuzan!”

“Akashicchi graduated from there two years ago.” Kise added. “Supposedly he was accepted into top universities but he rejected all of them and decided to continue in his father’s footsteps. Actually, he went to Teiko, right Aominecchi?”

Kuroko breathed, remembering the day when he opted out of registering for Teiko Junior High and chose Seirin Middle School instead. The more Kuroko listened to the biography that the two soldiers were spilling out, the more he realized that this man, _Akashi Seijuurou,_ seemed to have weaved in and out of his younger life like a phantom, always just out of reach but never too far away.

“Yeah, he did. Akashi was a year older than us but practically _everyone_ at school knew him. He was _filthy rich_ for a twelve-year old brat. _Plus_ he turned down a crap ton of scholarships for basketball! I asked him after practice one day about why he would turn down such amazing opportunities but he just stuck his fucking nose up at me. Should’ve broken it when I had the chance.”

“Aominecchi!” Kise recoiled from the vulgar words. “Don’t call Akashicchi a brat!”

“Whatever.” Aomine waved his hand away. “We all know that our favorite middle school basketball captain was a pain in the ass.”

“If you see him tomorrow, he’ll stick out like a sore thumb, with his fancy blue uniform.” Aomine continued, seemingly determined to sour the (still) awed expressions on Momoi and Sakurai’s faces. “You can’t miss him. He’s got so many ribbons and medals and shit that he could literally blind someone standing a meter away.”

Kuroko’s eyes widened, finally piecing together the image. _Isn’t that -_

“Hey, Akashicchi was in Tokyo last night! I heard from another squad that he was managing the train station shooting - ”

_Red hair._

Kuroko tensed, squeezing his knees with shaky hands. His ears rung, blocking out all outside chatter.

 _Red eye..._ gold _eye._

Everything that he had been suppressing since the night before was seeping into consciousness. The memory of the strange lieutenant flashed across his mind, along with - 

_Guns._

_Dead bodies._

_Dead faces._

_Blood. Red blood._

The train. _His parents. His grandmother. Kagami._ Loss.

_Red eye, gold eye…_

 

“So what is his announcement going to be about?” Sakurai asked tentatively.

Kuroko’s head snapped forward, blood rushing in his ears. He forced himself to look at his friends, shaking the memories from his head and trying to gain back his sense of security. At least he knew Momoi, even if he didn’t know much about the soldiers they were sitting with. Momoi was someone he could trust; he had been since he was in preschool. But everything else, _everyone else,_ was a blurry, terrifying landscape of uncertainty.

 _Stop._ A voice of reason pushed through as he gripped his knee again to cease involuntarily shaking. _You’re overreacting. Why are you so over-emotional about everything now?_

“Well…” Aomine said slowly. “We can’t. We aren’t authorized to tell you.”

“ _Dai_ -chan!” Momoi gushed, magenta eyes glittering. “I’ve never seen you so responsible before! This is definitely a first.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He grumbled. “And why does it even matter? You’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

She narrowed her eyes, as if she could scrutinize the answer hidden just from view. “It has to do with us, right? It has to do with the citizens.”

Then her eyes grew in size. Kuroko knew that she had hit jackpot. Something in his stomach sank.

“Akashi wants us to - “

The blue-haired teen stood up, causing everyone to jolt in their seat as the phantom made everyone aware of his presence. He didn’t want to know.

“I’m going for a walk.” He said, making sure his voice held no intonations of what he was feeling. “Does anyone care to join me?”

“I will, Kurokocchi!”

“No, Kise. We’ve wasted a lot of time here.” Aomine pushed away from the table. While Kise whined, Aomine prodded Murasakibara. “Let’s go.”

“Hey!” Momoi got up as well, magenta eyes hardening. Besides her, Sakurai watched her with wide eyes. “Dai-chan, he can’t be serious!”

Kuroko slid away quietly, reaching the end of the table. He had an idea of what was going to be announced the next day but he didn’t want to hear Momoi’s confirmation. She was one of the smartest girls he knew and her logic was almost always correct.

The navy-haired soldier looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Who can’t?”

“Akashi!” She snapped.

“Satsuki, it’s not like either of us have a choice!” Aomine replied angrily. “He’s my superior and he’s gone over it with his father, who’s the _fucking general of the entire fucking army_ . This decision was and is still _inevitable_.”

Kuroko turned, already high-tailing out of the cafeteria and slipping past oblivious people. Every word that Momoi and Aomine spoke was pricked at the ball of dread in his gut. He wasn’t ready, he _wasn’t ready -_

As he stepped out the door, he heard Aomine’s voice ring out over the chatter, hardened by war, death, and the memories of fear.

“Satsuki, face reality! They’re _coming for you and you know it!_ ”

 

* * *

 

The sound of tires rolling over gravel announced the arrival of the infamous son of Akashi Masaomi. The path to the Shizuoka evacuee camp began at the outskirts of Shizuoka itself, with a long winding road through the snowy forest and hills leading up to an isolated area citizens could reside in without much fear of being targeted by enemies.

A sleek black car stopped by the entrance of the warehouse buildings. Behind the black car was a line of dark green army trucks, carrying a squad of armed soldiers each.

A spectacled green-haired man got out of the passenger seat of the black car to open the back door, and out stepped Akashi Seijuurou.

“Thank you, Shintarou.” Akashi said, folding a piece of paper with gloved hands. Under the shade of his military dress cap, he scanned the area, paying little attention to the citizens.

The green-haired man, Midorima Shintarou, nodded in return. “Are you ready?”

Two ruby eyes regarded him coolly. “When am I ever unprepared?”

The citizens were rounded up in groups and brought to the cafeteria. Confused, they chattered and whispered as they filed into the cafeteria, facing forward. A small platform had been set up near the back, tables were pushed aside, and the kitchen had been closed off, encasing everyone inside the large room.

The buzz of the bewildered families was anything but quiet at this point. With soldiers trying to organize them in tightly packed lines, the apprehension only continued to rise. Most people were completely unaware of what was going to happen. A few people had an idea but kept quiet, too fearful of the truth. Once the soldiers had finished organizing them, they silently retreated to the side of the room with their backs to the wall, guns hoisted over their shoulders.

In another room, a soldier alerted Akashi and Midorima that the citizens were ready. The red-haired lieutenant had shed his winter coat to reveal his regular military dress uniform, and handed off the paper that contained his speech to Midorima. Everything was done without a single word exchanged, a visible display of how much trust they had between them.

Forest green met blazing red and glittering gold. Midorima did not take the new dual colors of his superior’s eyes lightly.

He followed Akashi, making their way down the hall to the door to the cafeteria. Once opened, they strode through with their shoulders back and chins high, assuming their disciplined, perfect posture. Midorima did not follow the first lieutenant to the platform. As a mere second lieutenant, he hovered by the side door, quietly tucking the speech into his pocket.

Akashi continued to a lone microphone on the platform, paying little attention to the crowd of citizens. Silence fell over the room as the red-haired man paused in front of the microphone stand to remove his dress cap, looking over the sea of faces.

Taking a breath, he began to speak.

 

 

Akashi Seijuurou, to say the least, was the very epitome of _glory._ Even in the dim lighting of the cafeteria, his eyes seemed to glow, piercing with tangible weight into everyone present in the room. His hair was neatly trimmed and combed, and the cut of his uniform emphasized the stiffness and confidence in his shoulders. Impeccably shiny shoes, firm stance, pristine cuffs, shining decorations that stood out on his breast and pinned against the dark blue of his jacket--every detail, gesture, and blink of his eye appeared to be calculated to perfection. If Kuroko was a tiny ant slipping through the soil, then Akashi was a god that crushed the dirt beneath his heels.

“Good morning.” The red-haired lieutenant spoke, a nonchalance oozing from his voice. At the sound of his voice, the hair on the back of Kuroko’s neck stood up, uneasiness overtaking his perceptions. The crowd began to murmur, already restless.

“I am the First Lieutenant Akashi Seijuurou. Today, I will be discussing an issue that pertains to many of you.”

Kuroko could see Sakurai fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. Momoi too, looked slightly perturbed at the sight of the lieutenant. He was somehow comforted in knowing that everyone else too cowered at the presence of such a peculiar, superior man - so with some new confidence in mind, he began to listen.

“On September 1st of last year, Japan formally entered the war concerning the Middle East and the Western countries.” Akashi spoke loudly and clearly. “This decision was done in our best interest to secure the downfall of terrorism, and to aid our Western allies in the fight to protect innocent people and to seek freedom for those who deserve it.”

“Terrorism, as we know it, has plagued our world and impacted every continent harboring billions of innocent lives. They are everywhere. America. Canada. Russia. Australia. South Korea. Germany. They are even here in Japan. This past January has brought nothing but chaos to our cities, from bombings to shootings in Tokyo. If the terrorists, the uncontrollable, are living amongst us today, wreaking havoc with every breath they take… then as a nation, we are forced to ask the most important question: _What will we do_?”

As his voice grew firm, the noise quieted. People stopped shuffling their feet and moving their hands, drawn in by the finality of his words and the sense of sobriety and reflection that they carried. A few heads nodded in agreement, their gazes growing hard with resolution.

“We had deployed nearly 80,000 troops to join the Americans in their fight last October. Today, nearly half that number still remains. The reality of this war is this: the number of terrorists in the world are skyrocketing, and each has the power to destroy everything that _we,_ as Japanese citizens, hold dear.. It was our mistake once, to underestimate our enemy. If we had known the extent of the power of the enemy, many lives would have been saved.

“But now we _do_ know. There is no longer any excuse. We cannot allow this to go on any longer.

“As Japanese citizens, each of you must consider the weight of your duty to this country - and to your friends and families. Your parents, your children, your siblings and relatives. Would you be willing to allow terrorists hurt your loved ones? Would you be willing to allow these beasts to invade Japan and destroy everything that we know?”

The silence, once heavy and attentive, broke. _No,_ the people murmured. The lieutenant’s words lit a fire in the room, and it quickly spread. Kuroko could see the flames flickering in their eyes - red, red, red, _red._.

“No.” Akashi echoed. “No, we cannot, and will not. Their premeditated attacks on Tokyo have costed us countless lives. We may cry, grieve and mourn for years to come, but now is not the time.

“Our brothers and sisters fighting on the front lines, even now, are driven by an unspeakable courage and devotion for this country, more than anyone will ever know. These soldiers put their entire lives into this cause, they run right into the line of fire for the greater good. We sometimes forget that we have fellow friends defending our blessed country with all their might. It is to these honorable soldiers that we should bow our heads to. The power of the united Japanese people surely overrides the power of evil.

“Last year, we had already begun to draft promising soldiers. But to push back the terrorists in one fell swoop, _to achieve absolute victory,_ we will require the force of a tsunami - something that we are capable of providing.” Akashi paused, looking out across the room. “ _Truly_ , there is no greater honor.”

Kuroko swallowed nervously. Apprehension rose to his throat and barred a deep breath of air that he needed to calm himself. Though he knew it was impossible, it felt like Akashi’s words were drawing everyone’s gazes on his back. There would be no escape this time.

“Therefore, as of today, the government and General of the Army has decreed that all eligible men and women age eighteen years and older must join the military and serve Japan.”

A collective shock rippled through many people, some of whom began to stutter frightened protests, and some of whom began to cheer. Others remained quiet, some visibly conflicted and others content with the idea of being conscripted. Yet the lieutenant remained still, a small smile gracing his lips, not reaching his eyes.

Kuroko clutched the fabric of his sleeve. _Eighteen years and older. Eighteen…_

_What day is it today?_

“Momoi!” He hissed, suddenly clutching his friend’s arm. She looked around, eyes already full-blown with understanding of his fears. “Momoi…”

Her mouth hung open, and then formed the words that he didn’t want to hear. “January 31st. I’m so sorry, Tetsu-kun.” She whispered.

Kuroko nodded, remembering that Momoi was well over eighteen as well. “What about Sakurai?”

“He’s too young.” She said. “I suppose he’ll be…left behind.”

The voice of the lieutenant carried on, over the voices of the crowd that was becoming stronger by the second. “All men and women must pass a physical exam in order to join, so the elderly, disabled and pregnant women may not be able to serve their time. Afterwards, an intense training regime will ensure that all of you will become knowledgeable, valuable soldiers that will join the Western armies in this war. Lives will be lost, yes, but it is inevitable that _we will win_.”

Kuroko clenched his teeth, feeling his blood boil as his hands folded into a tight fist.

“ _We_ alone can change our fate.” Akashi said lightly, watching the people grow fanatic with Japanese nationalism. “Know that Japan is a force to be reckoned with, a supreme tidal wave that even the gods cannot hold back.”  

A portion of the crowd roared in favor, consumed by their patriotic sentiment. The ones who were conflicted hung back, but it took only a few moments for the rest of the crowd to join in excited fervor. The room grew loud with the chants of loyalty to the only trustworthy aspect in their lives - the government, and the red-haired man standing before them all. The air, heavy with chauvinism, flooded the senses of every individual.

“They’re going crazy!” Momoi gasped.

“Kuroko-san! Satsuki-san!” Sakurai grasped Kuroko’s jacket, gathering their attention. “Let’s get out of here!”

Near the back of the cafeteria, three people slipped out unnoticed. The shouting citizens, pushed away from the platform by a line of soldiers, lauded Akashi. Several more soldiers bounded onto the platform, surrounding the red-haired lieutenant who hadn’t moved an single inch. Passing a knowing glance to the green-haired man by the door, the green-haired man bowed and turned to leave through the side door.

Far away and standing high above the crowd, Akashi’s golden eye glimmered with the promise of victory.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something to note: We are assuming that terrorism has spread all over the world, and is the largest, most dangerous group in all of history.
> 
> But here's a brand new list!! :D These rankings will change throughout the fic...  
> Akashi Masaomi - General of the Army  
> Akashi - First Lieutenant  
> Midorima - Second Lieutenant  
> Aomine - Private  
> Murasakibara - Private  
> Kise - Private
> 
> Comments, kudos, crit... 
> 
> ANOTHER SHOUTOUT TO NEVERCONFORMEVER FOR BETA-ING OR ELSE THIS CHAPTER WOULD'VE BEEN AN ACTUAL TRAINWRECK


	6. Chapter 6

The day Kuroko became a soldier he had nothing but a backpack with a few pairs of clothes, a dead cell phone and himself in an isolated camp a few miles north of Shizuoka.

Sakurai was left behind, just as Momoi predicted. He was one of the oldest of the evacuees besides the frail elderly and pregnant women. With tears shining in his mousy brown eyes, he had hugged both of them good-bye, Momoi just a second longer, before bidding them farewell. They boarded buses and never saw him again.

At the camp, Kuroko and Momoi were separated into lines designated for biological gender. Soldiers (after a few attempts to make his presence known) drew his blood, took his name, his height, weight, birthdate, and numerous other pieces of personal information (some of which he wasn’t even sure were accurate). The nurse who checked his body for any undesirable deformities or injuries tsked quietly when she grasped his thin wrists, murmuring quietly in a voice she probably thought he wouldn’t hear that with his deplorably petite size, he would not last long on the battlefield. Although she did give a soft _hmph!_ while checking his heart rate, noting that with his incredibly slow heart rate, Kuroko was probably an athlete of some sort. Kuroko kept his face straight, only nodding when she said so. Afterwards, she reluctantly handed him a key to a room and sent him off.

Kuroko then found himself standing before his new home, hesitating in front of a plain, wooden door with a metal plate with a fading, chipped _114_ stamped on it. Inserting the key, he twisted it and opened the door. He started at what he saw.

Two other soldiers were already inside - two soldiers that he knew.

“Kurokocchi!” One of the soldiers leapt up from one of the small beds pressed up against the farthest wall. “You’re _here_!”

“Huh? Tetsu?” Aomine swiveled around on his own bed. Kuroko made note to ask him about his new nickname later. “You’re our new roommate?”

Kuroko didn’t see what Aomine’s next expression was because his vision was blinded by a mop of golden hair and the dark green of a uniform, and he was suddenly shoved towards a shoulder, where he resided for a few moments.

“Hello, Kise-kun.” He said, bending back slightly due to the weight of the taller. Patting him on the back, he asked, “Can you get off me?”

“Aww, Kurokocchi…”

Once Kise had let go, Kuroko placed his backpack on the floor next to the only unoccupied bed next to the door.

The room was quite small, with no windows. The only source of illumination came from a ceiling light, which cast a yellowish glow on their surroundings. On the bed, he noticed a uniform folded neatly atop a pillow. On the uniform, was a glittering dog tag with a chain attached to it.

“That’s your stuff!” Kise explained, as if Kuroko wasn’t capable of comprehending. “They came in here a few minutes ago to deliver it.”

Kuroko unfolded the uniform jacket, revealing a typical camouflage pattern that he saw on many uniforms. It was the same as Kise’s and Aomine’s: with varying shades of randomly splotched desaturated green, green buttons and a zipper underneath. On its right arm was a Japanese flag and _JAPANESE ARMY_ embroidered on the tough fabric. There were also two flapped breast pockets cleverly blended into the patterns of the uniform. It was the smallest size available, but at first glance Kuroko knew it would be too big on him. Matching trousers and black mid-calf boots were also supplied.

With that, Kuroko picked up the jacket, and slipped it on, rolling up the cuffs and doing his best to make it fit. Aomine and Kise tried hard not to laugh.

“It’s okay Kurokocchi, you look cute!”

“Aw, Tetsu. Don’t worry, you’ll grow into it.”

He quirked his lips up into a half-smile at their light-heartedness, not really sharing their amusement.

Kuroko felt exactly as he looked - like a naive child trying on adult’s clothing; like someone trying to fulfill a role that was too big for him to handle. It didn’t suit him.

He picked up his dog tag by the chain. Engraved on it, from top to bottom, was his last and first name, a sequence of numbers and letters, his blood type and the word _Private_. He looked at Aomine silently in question.

“Ah, that’s just to identify who you are. Y’know. In case something blows up and you don’t react fast enough.”

Short, simple, and matter-of-fact. Kuroko tried not to think too hard about the implications of Aomine’s casual words, simply nodding, slipping the chain over his head, and tucking the dog tag inside his shirt.

“Hey, do you know if Satsuki is here?” Aomine asked, leaning forward slightly. “Or Sakurai?”

Kuroko shook his head, and moved to unpack his backpack. “Sakurai-kun wasn’t old enough to be drafted, but Momoi is here. We were separated once we arrived.”

“Ah!” Kise said excitedly, watching the blue-haired soldier pull out his sweaters and jeans and pile it atop the bedding. “By now, Momoicchi must be in the female dorms!”

“Which we aren’t allowed to be in.” Aomine said slowly, turning his head and wrinkling his nose. “What’s up with that?”

“It seems that Aomine-kun has questionable habits.” Kuroko said, lips quirking in a teasing grin. Aomine started, pouting when Kuroko didn’t sympathize with him.

“Actually, it’s the opposite!” Kise added brightly. “He is one hundred percent bisexual _and_ single, unless you count his fantasy girlfriend.”

“ _Mai-chan is not -_ ”

“Mai-chan?” Kuroko tilted his head to the side, watching Aomine turn a shade of red from both embarrassment and outright indignation. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

He moved to pick up the military trousers, but then thought better of changing in front of two soldiers he wasn’t entirely comfortable with, instead asking for directions to the bathroom.

The male soldiers’ quarters had only one bathroom, located some hallways away. There was a row of urinals against a white tiled wall, another row of sinks with remarkably pristine mirrors, and three lone showerheads in the corner that offered no privacy whatsoever. Three (damp) drains were positioned under each showerhead.

At least no one was in there. Ducking into the corner, Kuroko quickly stripped off his clothes except for his socks and boxers and slipped on the rest of uniform without much difficulty. Checking his reflection in a mirror, he grimaced at its bagginess. The pants were too long, wrapping under his heels and dragging on the ground whenever he moved. They poofed out under the belt, the excess cloth bunching uncomfortably below his waist, emphasizing his petite size. The shirt was obviously made for shoulders much broader than his, and had a collar that felt stiff, itchy, and heavy. Without Aomine and Kise around to distract him with their teasing, his face was set in an uncharacteristically grim expression. The stress from the past few days was already beginning to show in the tight set of his mouth and the circles under his eyes. He took a second to just stare at himself in the reflection.

He tried to imagine how it would be to carry a rifle, a machine gun in his slender arms, to feel the shape of the trigger curl around his pointer finger. The weight of a weapon that he would never have dreamed of bearing. There would be green helmet on his head with a buckle underneath his chin, dirt and grime on his pale skin and dried blood in his hair. A knife in his hand, caked in dark red. Maybe a gunshot wound on his leg, with layers of gauze stemming the flow.

This was it. This is who he was to become. This was Kuroko, the soldier.

Breaking away from the slow panic that had begun to creep into his eyes, he bent down and rolled up the hem of the pants before sticking one foot into a boot. Due to its size, it ended a little above mid-calf, but it was still surprisingly comfortable nonetheless. Perhaps it had already been broken in; perhaps these were used shoes repurposed and taken from a soldier who would no longer need them - who was no longer available to use them - passed along to Kuroko, to only be passed along to another after he -

He gave the laces a hard yank, trying his best to tie them as tightly as he could. Unsurprisingly, it was still too big for his foot in all directions. It would have to do. He tucked the pants inside and was switching to the other foot when the sound of voices began to float into the hallway outside the bathroom.

The words were difficult to decipher through the muffling of the walls, but Kuroko could pick out two voices, one much louder than the other.

“Why is...”

“It’s none of your business…”

“...won’t happen.”

“Sei-chan knows exactly what he’s doing!”  

Kuroko largely ignored the rest of the exceedingly noisy conversation, picking up his clothes and making sure they were clean. He popped his head out of the bathroom, seeing two officers, one with shoulder-length dark hair and the other with short, cropped blonde hair, making their way down the hall, oblivious to the blue-haired soldier peering after them.   

Gathering his old clothes under one arm, he left the bathroom to navigate his way back. When he reached the hallway with his room, he found the two officers from before standing outside one of the rooms, speaking to a soldier inside. It took him a full minute to realize that it was _his_ room that the two officers were standing outside, and that he should probably be there to know what was going on.

“We need you there as soon as possible.” Kuroko heard the dark-haired officer say with urgency. “The lieutenant won’t accommodate late-comers.”

“But we’ll be back in time for training in the afternoon?” Aomine’s voice was next. Kuroko sped up and broke into a trot, nearing his room.

_...Training?_

He crept closer, hoping to gain some more information by listening in, but at that moment the officers lowered their voices, and Aomine frowned before nodding. Kise pushed the navy-haired soldier aside, his ever-cheerful presence a stark contrast from the solemnity of the officers.

“Nijimura-san will let us off! It’s fine, Aominecchi. Let’s go.” Tugging on said soldier’s sleeve, Kise filtered into the hallway.

“Kise-kun!” Kuroko raised his voice, now completely confused. Kise whirled around, lighting up happily to see the small soldier in his uniform. “What’s going on?”

A sharp look from the officers gave Kise a reason to clamp his mouth shut.

“We have to be somewhere.” Aomine interjected, giving Kise a look as well. Seriousness lined his face like wrinkles, a look that Kuroko had never seen on Aomine before. “Like, right now. Listen, you should get lunch and then head for the training field. Afternoon training typically begins at 1300 hours so don’t be late, ‘cause the drill instructors will get mad. We’ll meet you there later.”

_1300 hours? What’s that?_

He almost asked, but the officers were already beginning to escort the pair down the hall, and the the cold look in their eyes stopped him. A small wave of apprehension overtook him when he realized that he had no idea where anything was or how to make his way through the camp - much less enough to be able to make it to the training field in time.

“You’ll probably find Momoicchi!” Kise called, before the group vanished from view in the next hall over, leaving Kuroko feeling utterly and terrifyingly alone.

 

* * *

 

When 1300 hours rolled around, Aomine and Kise were not at the training field.

The training field, unlike Kuroko’s first assumption, was not much of a field at all. The entire area consisted of a large warehouse with open spaces to practice various fighting techniques and a track running the circumference of the open space. Outside was an even wider field with a shooting range, a high hill blanketed in glistening snow and a deep forest behind it. While the outdoor fields were not open due to the season, everyone stayed inside the warehouse, including Kuroko. Presumably, everything in the training field would be used; Kuroko would anticipate this much.

In the end, Kuroko never found Momoi. Her long, pastel pink hair was nowhere to be found amongst the crowds of blacks and browns that began to file through the entrance of the warehouse. He wondered if Kise was just mistaken or if Momoi didn’t know that she should’ve came for training, or if he was mistaken and had come to the wrong place at the wrong time.

As far as he could see, the majority of the soldiers here were new recruits. It wasn’t hard to tell - the recruits came in hordes, pressing closely together to feel safe in an unfamiliar environment. The government really had kept to their word, recruiting men and women of all ages. There were other kids like him, barely eighteen, and then there were adults with graying strands and wrinkled foreheads.

These thoughts flew out of his mind as soon as Kuroko spotted a drill instructor - distinguishable by his commanding aura and a uniform similar to that of the red-haired lieutenant from the evacuee camp - heading their way, flanked by two more high-ranking officers. The soldiers who recognized this man snapped straight to attention and hustled into a perfect square behind a long platform at one end of the warehouse. These, Kuroko noted, were the experienced soldiers.The others were therefore the new recruits, who continued to chatter and misunderstand the severity of their ignorance in the presence of the superior officer.

Kuroko slinked to the side, seeking a spot where he could comfortably observe. He went unnoticed by everyone, but was pushed to the back of the square formation, where a wall of men and women prevented him from seeing anything or anyone.  

 _Don’t overthink._ He told himself, clenching his teeth at the presence of too many bodies around him. _Don’t think about it, don’t look at them._

 _“ATTENTION!”_ came a few seconds later, a furious roar that silenced the entire warehouse - even the soldiers who were already training across the warehouse.

The rest of the soldiers rearranged themselves next to the experienced group, trying to resemble the rigidity and discipline of the formation as best as they could.

“My name is Sergeant Kasamatsu of the Kaijou Squad.” His voice was clear, strong, and piercing, like his blue eyes, which bore into the soul of each soldier, seemingly reducing each into nothing but a tiny insect. “I am your superior officer and drill instructor.”

“ _Never,_ in my years of training recruits, have I ever met such an undisciplined, oblivious and dense crowd such as this.” The sergeant spat, disgust dripping from his voice. “You lot are _imbeciles._ An absolute shame. If each of you knew how to use even a half percent of your brains, I’d be surprised. If you don’t wake up and realize what is happening around you, _what you’re here for,_ we’ll make as much progress as a slug. And that is _not_ what I have in mind for you. Not here, and not under my watch.”

Everyone nearly flinched at the sergeant’s choice of words, but he continued, snarling like a hyena. “The Middle Eastern armies have already advanced to our borders, and what are you doing? Gossiping like a bunch of _little girls_. If this behavior carries on, _you will be tossed into the streets with absolutely nothing_. Believe me, a pathetic weakling freezing to death in this winter means nothing to us. A soldier with no discipline cannot fight, and a soldier that cannot fight is nothing more than a waste of space and resources.

“You are _soldiers!_ You are a serial number on a dog tag. You have no name. You have no identity. You are nothing.

“In ten weeks, you will become warriors, bred to kill - _each and every one of you._ You will learn to use a knife, a gun, a bomb, your fists. You will learn to fight to the death for the glory of our nation and for the love of our families. You will learn pain and you will accept it.

Kasamatsu paused. “You will never take _no_ for an answer and you will know the satisfaction of never giving up. You will cry, you will scream, and you will writhe like worms in the mud, but we won’t care. This is what war means. This is how we fight. If you work hard, we will be victors. _Am I clear?_ ”

Kuroko raised his voice to join in the resounding “ _Hai!”_ trumpeted in the gloom of February morning.

 

 

 

Training began with laps, each one stretching at least two miles. As stated by Kasamatsu, training would always begin at 7 in the morning with several laps around the barracks, followed by sit-ups, curl-ups, and push-ups, and every other “warm-up” drill in existence. Kuroko was certain he would black out half-way. Endurance was never one of his strengths - and to think, it would only get more difficult from there.

Kuroko’s heart thudded painfully against his chest as he tried to breathe through his nose with every shout of a number that the drill sergeant forced them to articulate when they did push-ups. Aside from the experienced soldiers, he found the grunts and pants of new recruits around him at least somewhat calming, as he was comforted with the idea that mostly everyone else wasn’t living up to military standards either.

 _This isn’t too far off from basketball practice,_ Kuroko told himself. _This isn’t impossible to get through. I can manage._ Even if the drill sergeant were screeching in their ears about their incompetence.

He was glad for his lack of presence, which occasionally allowed him to slip out of the spotlight and give someone else the lecture from the drill sergeants. It was perfect when he was amidst a dense crowd, but not so much when the sergeant was less than a meter from him. Kuroko knew that he could still evade their attention, but he wasn’t confident enough to try.  

“ _Lower!”_ Kasamatsu roared somewhere behind Kuroko. “ _Louder,_ or else it’s another six miles!”

The chanting continued on while Kuroko watched his own sweat stain the cement floor dark gray, realizing for a second that he was breathing through his mouth again. It makes his throat parched but he _needed air._ He couldn’t do it. His muscles wailed as he hauled himself up and down and back up again, but he was, admittedly, too scared of the sergeant to want to stop.

“I said _louder!_ ” Kasamatsu raged, voice growing louder as he paced between the rows of soldiers struggling with simple push-ups. “What kind of fools are you to believe that you will ever win the war if you can’t do what I say?”

Next to Kuroko, a soldier made a snarky comment. “Why don’t you try doing it, asshole?”

Kuroko flinched - not because of the stupidity he just witnessed, although that by itself was frightening - but because Kasamatsu whirled around and snapped, “Who said that?”

A bout of terror flitted through Kuroko as he heard the sergeant’s footsteps coming towards him. Sneaking a glance to the soldier next to him, the perpetrator seemed completely unphased, much to Kuroko’s chagrin.

Kuroko ducked his head down as he spotted the black heels behind him, moving steadily with the other soldiers. He kept his eyes to the ground, fixated on one small pool of sweat below his chest, yelling the numbers as loudly as he could. His heart was beating painfully as the black boots stopped besides him but made no indication that the sergeant had his attention towards him.

Every curse word was running through his mind. Kuroko almost swore that Kasamatsu was growling at him, or both at them, or whoever the sergeant thought had said the rude remark.

“Get up.”

The words were directed towards them, though Kuroko wasn’t sure exactly who, but he wasn’t going to try being a smart-ass in order to figure that out. Kuroko suddenly felt small, smaller than a plankton floating in the ocean surrounded by the vast jaws of a whale, seconds from succumbing to the wide-reaching and unfathomable anger of a dark-haired man. He stopped his push-ups, not daring to peek up at the sergeant, and shakily stood up.

The other soldier did too, self-consciousness and shame intermingling on his own sweaty face. Kuroko looked away to the opposite wall of the warehouse, unable to watch the sergeant as he opened his mouth to yell.

“Not you, Private Kuroko!” Kasamatsu barked.

Simultaneously stunned and still quite hesitant, Kuroko looked to him.

“What are you standing around for?”

For the first time, Kuroko’s mouth ceased functioning. “S-sorry, Drill Sergeant sir.” He stumbled over his words, a mixture of relieved and uncertain, before kneeling on the ground. “I’ll get back to push-ups, sir.”

Kasamatsu’s mouth twisted distastefully but Kuroko thanked the gods that he wasn’t under the sergeant's scrutiny anymore. It didn’t matter if he didn’t make that remark; Kasamatsu’s glare was enough to make him feel guilty.

“Put your backs into it, all of you!” The sergeant shouted, noticing that a few recruits had stopped to watch the ordeal. “As for you…”

Kasamatsu grabbed the back of perpetrator’s uniform, roughly hauling him by the fabric to leave the rows of exercising soldiers. The soldier floundered in his step as the sergeant continued to drag him across the warehouse. Kuroko began to follow the rest of the soldiers in their push-ups, wincing when his muscles trembled under his weight and the familiar sting began to sear at his thighs. He immediately disregarded it when he spotted Kasamatsu shoving the soldier out the door, watching him tumble into the snowy banks beyond.

Without a second of uncertainty, Kasamatsu slammed the door and stalked back to the rows of soldiers with tense shoulders and a terrifying scowl. Astonishment and shock engulfed the warehouse, including Kuroko, who bowed his head and began to count once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real struggle. 
> 
> I had finals and tons of new classes so it was hard for me to find time to sit down and really concentrate. Also, writer's block. :P 
> 
> \--> everyone should give NeverConformEver a hug bc she is the best and puts up with my shit writing on a daily basis 
> 
> Comments, kudos, crit...


	7. Chapter 7

Kuroko was startled awake to the sound of his alarm clock blaring in his ears. Across the room, Kise groaned into his pillow and Aomine remained motionless in his eagle-spread position, snoring away.

A red _6:00 AM_ glowed as Kuroko randomly smacked at the buttons on top of the dreadful device, swinging his legs out of bed and wiping the sleep from his eyes. His muscles throbbed as he shook Aomine awake, got dressed, brushed his teeth, washed his face and tried to smooth down his ridiculous hair with warm water. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his legs and grimaced at the ache in his thighs, but years of playing basketball reminded him that the pain would leave after another week of hardcore training. When he finished ten minutes later, Kuroko looked in the mirror and stared at the sallow complexion of his face.

Breakfast at 6:20 AM brought Kuroko to a table with Kise, Murasakibara, Aomine and Momoi, pouring tea from a small metallic pot. The pink-haired girl provided cheerful smiles for Kuroko, swinging her arms over his shoulders and chattering about her own roommates.

“Calm down, you’re gonna choke Tetsu.” Aomine said, waving his chopsticks at her from across the table as Kise took his seat to Aomine’s left.

The pink hair shielding Kuroko’s vision fluttered and waved as she pulled away, sweeping all of it behind her shoulder.

“How did Kasamatsu not force you to chop off all those inches?” Aomine muttered too quietly for anyone to hear.

Kuroko stood up to pour more tea for the rest of his friends, carefully tipping the spout into each cup in an act of courtesy. He had little idea of why he did so - perhaps his grandmother’s compulsive lectures on civility was finally getting to him - but he did regret it once the tea reached Kise, whose eyes brightened with delight and nearly assaulted Kuroko. It was not a surprise when the the tea dribbled out of the spout and pooled on the table.

Every variation of “Fucking _chill_ , Kise.” and “Ki-chan, stop!” (and of course, the usual crunch of chips) broke out from their exasperation, which quickly became fear as they spotted Kasamatsu marching towards them from across the cafeteria with a reprimand on his tongue.

Stifling a yawn and pushing away his remaining weariness, Kuroko let out an inward sigh. Today would be a long day.

 

 

 

“Learning hand-to-hand combat,” Kasamatsu had declared one afternoon in the warehouse, “Will inevitably save your life.”

Training continued for weeks afterwards, transitioning from simple exercises to build up endurance to more complicated techniques and drills. The only constant was the running drills, which ironically became the soldiers’ favorite, as it became least taxing drill Kasamatsu decided would be in store for them. While the snowy winter did not clear up (in fact, Kasamatsu sent all of them outside at the crack of dawn to shovel the snow due to an unexpected blizzard), they continued to train inside the warehouse. After that first demonstration, no one dared to do anything that would end with the sergeant furiously tossing them outside.

Kuroko, despite every sign that told him that he was too frail to begin with, began to see the development in his own body. The aching joints in his arms grew resilient and tough with hard muscle cladding his slim, lean figure. Small bruises and scrapes had blossomed over his knees and elbows from being scuffed during hand-to-hand combat sessions, but they faded to scars. Callouses capped the pads of his fingers, the soft skin roughened from continuously lifting weights and running on treadmills. He never thought he would see the day he would develop abs, but nevertheless there was a set of muscles forming on his torso.

But learning hand-to-hand combat, Kuroko subsequently discovered, would probably give him more grief than any kind of training he has ever had thus far.

“On the battlefield, there is only the wolf-and-sheep mentality.” Kasamatsu dictated, watching the soldiers shove and heave at each other like hawks eyeing the vulnerable mouse skittering across the forest floor.

“The wolves - ”

Aomine, Kise and Murasakibara, who were training half way across the warehouse, sparred in a deadly blur of fists, dodges and heavy kicks at their opponents. They were predators, canines with a deadly disposition, hackles raised and circling their prey in the shadows of trees. Their individual skills and reputation, the envy of many recruits and pride of the military forces, were what made them the famed, exclusive Generation of Miracles that everyone knew of.

“ - and the sheep.”

Kuroko gasped as he was thrown to the ground, his back thudding painfully against the mat before the back of his head followed suit with a loud smack. The sensation brought tears to his eyes and he rolled to the side with a groan. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got a mild concussion from that alone.

“Sorry, Kuroko!” Takao, his sparring partner, rubbed the back of his neck and reached out a hand to the blue-haired soldier with a bright grin. “I got really into it.”

Kuroko grasped the hand and pulled himself up, trying to control the urge to puke the contents of his breakfast. His ears rung, loud enough to momentarily block out all of the sounds of training.

Slightly disorientated, he glanced across the warehouse, gaze drawn to the agility and raw power of the elite soldiers. He wasn’t actually aware that this group existed until a few days ago, nor had any of his new friends brought it up. It was only when Kasamatsu had specifically pointed them out as a means to demonstrate what was an example of a _qualified_ soldier did Kuroko finally receive a piece of physical evidence that he was pretty insignificant in the whole scheme of things.

The word _qualified_ never failed to leave Kuroko with a few laughs every time he thought of it - Kise with his childish demeanor, Aomine with his raging hormones, Murasakibara with his chips and maiubo - when thinking of these people that he had gradually come to know, nothing that came to mind insinuated “ _qualified_ ” once their feet stepped off the training field. Kuroko couldn’t think of a single day in which he didn’t have to act as a mediator between Kise and Aomine’s pointless bickering or scold Murasakibara for being lazy. For Kuroko, it was more than bizarre to watch their whimsical behaviors snap into seriousness, their individual ferocity rivaling that of wolves once they were challenged. For Kuroko, it was _terrifying_.

“ - _roko._ Kuroko!”

Kuroko looked around, finding Takao waving his hand in his face. “You okay? You blanked out for a few seconds there.”

Blinking, Kuroko nodded. “I am fine, but tired.” He answered truthfully as a sudden sensation of dull pain rippled through his skull. Grimacing, he wiped his forehead as a means to force a neutral expression. “We should practice again.”

Takao agreed. Both soldiers readied their stances, with their feet at shoulders’ length apart, bent knees and arms facing forward. Their eyes locked onto each other, waiting for the other to strike. Kuroko breathed in, concentrating hard on the slate blue of Takao’s eyes. For a split second, he almost reacted when he thought he saw Takao’s eyes flit to the side, but dropped down instantly when he saw a fist whip towards his face.

Kuroko kicked out in an arc, sweeping Takao’s feet out from underneath him. The taller soldier fell on his side, rolling onto his knees and popped back up, as if nothing had happened. In a blur of limbs, Takao delivered punches, each of which Kuroko deflected with clenched teeth. He attempted to land a punch but Takao pushed it away, opting to snatch his wrists.

He was a second too slow. Shooting around him, Kuroko grabbed Takao’s shoulder and yanked hard, but it was a bad idea. Takao latched onto Kuroko’s arm, dragging him down to the ground, where they wrestled. On his back, Kuroko attempted to get up, but Takao shoved him back down with a hefty arm. Using his knee to kick upwards, Kuroko flung Takao over until he was lying on his back. This too, was a bad idea. Takao lifted his lower body up so that his legs were above Kuroko’s head and barreled right into the junction between Kuroko’s head and shoulder, effectively knocking him onto the ground once more.

Kuroko wheezed, tears blurring his vision as air escaped his pained lungs. He hurriedly patted three times on Takao’s legs and the pressure was released.

Takao sat up, letting Kuroko sit up as well. Kuroko coughed, leaning forward and groaning when he sensed the world spinning around him.

“Not bad!” Takao said breathlessly. 

Kuroko tugged the collar of his shirt up to wipe away the sweat building up near his jawline and neck, not hearing Takao’s praises. “I have yet to win a single fight today.” He commented drily.

“Hmm? Do you want to try again?”

Kuroko looked up sluggishly, squinting to see Takao up and ready, almost prancing on balls of his feet with an energetic smile. It boggled his mind how some people were able to get back up so quickly, despite being knocked to the floor in every way possible. But then again, Takao had just won every single fight, and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. His enthusiasm was contagious, yet Kuroko seemed immune.

The blue-haired soldier was close to saying no, but Takao pulled him to his feet.

“C’mon, drill sergeant’s coming our way. He’ll get pissy when he sees you sitting.”

Reluctantly, Kuroko nodded, breathing a sigh. Returning to their stances for what must seemed the hundredth time this morning, the two of them lunged at each other and began to fight.

 

* * *

  

By the end of the week, Kuroko could not have been more exhausted. During dinner he dozed off, nearly face-planting into his soup if it weren’t for Aomine, who had grabbed the back of his collar and shook him awake. Feeling sufficiently embarrassed, he slipped out of the cafeteria, away from his oblivious friends and the ever-watchful eyes of Kasamatsu, in hopes of collapsing on his bed before he randomly collapsed somewhere else. He just wanted to be alone, without drill sergeants breathing down his neck and spitting orders at him. If this was against the rules - and it probably was - then he would have to deal with it on a better day. 

Back in his room, Kuroko hit his bed with a quiet sigh. Stretching his limbs, he decided to enjoy the blessed silence and peace before the influx of boisterous soldiers arrived back at the dorm. There was really nothing better than feeling the soft mattress supporting his weight rather than his own two feet. 

Rolling over, Kuroko ran a finger down the plain diagonal patterns on the bed sheets, dragging his gaze from the edge of his bed to the cement wall two feet away. Between the wall and the bed was an empty space to walk around, sandwiching a small nightstand pushed up to the corner. There, he spotted a strap of his backpack peeking out of the drawers, having been haphazardly thrown into it without being carefully tucked in. 

He reached forward, tugging open the drawer to push the strap back in. His fingers brushed an open zipper, and he shifted on his bed to get closer. When he was about to zip up the backpack, he spotted something glinting in the shadows.

He grabbed the shiny object, revealing his dead cell phone. His heart rate grew steadily at the thought of contacting his family as he pressed a few buttons, which only flashed him a dark screen with an empty battery. 

Kuroko bit his lip. Juggling the weight in his palm, he dug through his backpack for the charger and scoured the walls for an electric outlet. It wasn’t long before he had to give up, since the walls were completely devoid of anything to revive his phone. 

He didn’t really know what he was expecting. 

Kuroko tossed the practically useless device back into the side pocket before shoving the rest of it into the drawer with a loud bang, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration. He almost stopped halfway, surprised at his sudden spike in emotions. He was used to keeping his cool, and thought that training would make him too exhausted to feel anything, but dismissed the thought as irrelevant. He didn’t have to justify anything.

Kuroko sat on the edge of his bed and laid down in defeat, mentally counting off the days since he had last seen his family and Kagami. It seemed like  _ forever,  _ but it was still February and he had only just begun his training regime.

And what of his parents? And Kagami? Were they enlisted too? Kagami obviously couldn’t talk his way out of being recruited. His size, brute strength and athleticism would make him an extremely favorable recruit. His grandmother was definitely old enough to be considered safe from harm, but his parents were a different story. There were plenty of middle-aged recruits in Shizuoka, so he supposed it wouldn’t be any different in Hokkaido. 

Kuroko instinctively curled in at the thought of his mother and father wearing uniforms - his kind, compassionate mother and his quiet, intelligent father standing in the rows of soldiers, with guns hoisted over their shoulders and a grim expressions on both of their faces as they marched to the orders being shouted left and right. His hands gripped the bed sheets when he imagined them fighting on some battlefield, firing their weapons or running for their life from an unrelenting enemy. 

But maybe they would join up, if the Shizuoka and Hokkaido troops were to be grouped together. Then he would see his family again, and be able to spend time with Kagami like he used to. 

Kuroko let out another sigh, forcing himself to relax. His eyelids to slid shut and his breathing began to slow as he drifted off. A hazy fog settled in his mind, muting the thoughts that had plagued him since the day started. 

He had nearly fallen asleep in the silence when the sound of soldiers beginning to make their way back from the cafeteria startled him awake. Between the layers of noise, he could pick out Kise and Aomine’s distinct voices. He rolled over, facing away from the door. 

Kise was first, with his loud, “Akashicchi never said anything about that!” and the sound of the door swinging open on squeaky hinges. 

Aomine was next. Kuroko saw his shadow on the wall throw up his hands and rest it on his hips. “Holy shit, I don’t want to talk about him anymore. He’s insane.” 

Kuroko peeked over his shoulder, trying to keep still but it seemed that both soldiers hadn’t noticed him, or given any indication of noticing him. Aomine looked as annoyed as he sounded, with Kise wringing his hands. 

“Okay, we’ll tell him tomorrow.” Kise said, golden eyes suddenly fierce. 

“That he’s kind of a psychopath?”

“Yeah, that he can’t just  _ wipe out  _ \- ” 

“Hey, where’s Tetsu?” 

Kuroko inhaled quietly at the use of his nickname; the quick transition between talking about some high-ranking officer to himself was abnormal to hear. He was tempted to roll over and reveal himself, but he was  _ clearly  _ lying on the bed. It was hard to miss him, considering that his bed was right near the door. 

“I thought he was with you.” Kise said after a moment. 

Kuroko blinked. What were they talking about? He was here, in their room.

“Yeah, he was eating with us, right?” Aomine asked. “Whatever, he’s probably taking a piss.” 

Kuroko finally flipped over to the other side, frowning slightly as both Kise and Aomine yelped at the sudden movement.

Aomine cursed loudly. “When did you get in here?”

“I was always here.” Kuroko pointed out, watching them warily.

“What the hell?” Aomine, bewildered, looked at Kuroko as if he was the eighth wonder of the world. “This is the third time you've done this today. You're freaky.”

“Don’t call Kurokocchi that!” Kise chastised the other soldier, setting off a small argument. 

Kuroko largely ignored their bickering, furrowing his brow when he realized that he never actually explained the phenomenon to them. He sat up, absentmindedly smoothing down the side of his head that he was lying on.

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted Kise and Aomine. “I tend to have low presence.” 

Noting their baffled expressions, he explained, “I don’t know how to explain it, nor do I have any real control over it.” 

“Low presence.” Kise echoed, glancing at Aomine.

“Yes. I know it sounds strange.” Kuroko was growing a bit perturbed by the amount of knowing glances being passed between his two friends. “If it bothers you, I can try to pay more attention to how I present myself. Having a low presence is something that’s natural to me, though it doesn’t always happen.” 

Kuroko inhaled quietly, unsure if they would believe his impromptu explanation. Kise’s jaw slacked a little, while Aomine looked as if he was deep in thought, trying to process his words that probably made no sense. When Kise and Aomine looked at each other again, Kise’s golden eyes were visibly searching for answers within Aomine’s navy blue ones. Kuroko didn’t blame them. It took Kagami forever to get used to it. 

"Kurokocchi.” Kise butted in slowly, sounding far too interested for Kuroko to consider normal. “You know what’s cool? I know a guy who can probably teach you how to control your lack of presence. How to use it to your own advantage, how to use it while fighting." 

Kuroko raised an eyebrow. "For real?" 

"Yeah, I'm serious." 

Kuroko’s gaze drifted to the ground, pondering over the new piece of information. Someone who knew how to control presence? Moreover...someone who knew what it was? He was not going to dismiss Kise’s suggestion, although he was sure that most people wouldn’t know that having a lack of presence was even a legitimate thing. Kuroko had a lack of presence for as long as he could remember. His parents never once complained, though he knew that it sometimes bothered them. 

Plus, Kuroko wasn’t even aware that his lack of presence had any use. Sure, it had helped a bit during his basketball career in school, but it never occurred to him that his supposed talent was more than a nuisance.  

“What do you mean?” Kuroko finally asked, meeting their gazes. Astonished to see them so earnest, he pressed forward. “What use does it have? How can he do it?” 

Aomine exchanged brief looks with Kise once more, before sitting down on a bed, a lazy grin spreading across his tanned features. 

“Tetsu, would you be interested in meeting Akashi Seijuurou?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took more than 22k words to finally move onto Akakuro bUT WE GODDAMN GOT THERE 
> 
> believe me i am just as excited as you are :D
> 
> Comments, kudos, crit...


	8. Chapter 8

The crack of a bullet whipping through the air was silenced when it sunk into the black target halfway across the room. Each routine _inhale, exhale, pull_ followed by the loud bang and a soft squeak of the bullet impaling a target was already second-hand nature to Akashi. The target boards cut into the shape of a man’s head and torso and painted with circular white lines were embedded with holes located near its chest and forehead area. Small gold cylinders littered the floor, empty shells that popped out of the slots every time Akashi pulled the trigger. His movements were sharp, quick, and precise, every swift turn punctuated by the quiet _whish!_ of the targets flipping into the air. If his ammunition ran out, it was swiftly replaced with another magazine; Akashi jammed it into place and continued on. As the moving targets continued to pop out of the ground, ceiling, and walls, Akashi pinpointed each individual center with deadly accuracy and skill.

When the last target appeared, Akashi was more than ready to leave. Though most would agree that Akashi would probably be fine if he skipped a week, he was technically required to practice. Watching the last bullet cut neatly through its target board, he breathed, tugging the moss green helmet off his head and loosening his grip on the gun handle. Sweat had built up considerably, dampening his jacket and gifting him with an uncomfortable feeling that he desperately wanted to scrub off in the shower. Akashi exited the target practice room and headed for the showers near the training field, knowing that the janitors would clean up the mess of bullet shells he left behind.

The hallways were practically empty, except for a few workers preparing to close up for the night. They had no qualms with Akashi passing by them, though they dipped their heads as he approached. Akashi paid them no attention, making a quick detour to the gun storage room next to the training field to put away the weapons and safety equipment, too deep in thought about a mental checklist of what paperwork he had to get through before submitting it to his father the next morning, mentally lamenting the hours of sleep he would have to give up once again.

It didn’t occur to him that he was not alone until he heard sounds floating through the storage room from outside. He stilled, listening carefully.

Akashi scowled. It was the distinct sound of training, of two soldiers wrestling with each other for dominance. Training wasn't anything to be upset over, but the audacity of breaking the rules was. Soldiers were supposed to be preparing for bed at this time, not wandering around unauthorized outside the barracks.

He strode outside. Yanking the training field doors open when he reached them, he was ready to snap at them from across the warehouse, but stopped when he recognized one of them.

_Daiki?_

Akashi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the rare sight of Aomine actually putting in effort in training. _Although…_

Navy blue clashed with a flash of sky blue in a frenzy of grunts, sweat and skin slapping skin. Aomine’s navy blue eyes were alight with fire, his lips curled into a small smirk. It was clear that Aomine was the more powerful of the two - his punches hit harder, his technique much more refined and confident. There was no doubt about the amount of experience this soldier had gone through.

The smaller of the two at first drew very little of Akashi’s attention. He would never had noticed the shorter soldier if not for Aomine’s strangely enthusiastic expressions in regards to his sparring partner. The smaller male soldier did not have the same skills as Aomine - in fact, his skills were absolutely abysmal - but his very presence slipped from Akashi’s crimson-gold gaze every time Akashi wasn't paying close attention.

It was only the sky blue that Akashi had no trouble missing, a bright color that stood out against Aomine’s navy blue and tanned skin. And for this very reason, Akashi stayed where he was, casually watching from the shadows.

  
  
  
  


A fist nearly swung into Kuroko’s skull. Ducking swiftly, Kuroko threw a punch to Aomine, who easily deflected it with his forearm. A tanned fist flew below Kuroko’s neck, aiming for the space between his collarbones. Kuroko tried to evade it but the edge of the knuckles grazed the pale skin, rendering the once pale surface pink.

“Too slow. Way too slow.” Aomine grunted, barely panting while the smaller soldier was breathing heavily, resting his hand on his hip. He stalked around Kuroko, visibly twitching in excitement. “Move _faster_!”

Aomine lunged forward, delivering fast punches. The two soldiers danced in an act of battle, their pants and grunts the only noises echoing off the walls.The warehouse was mostly empty; considering that it was after training hours, everyone was supposed to be back at the dorms, preparing for bed. But Kuroko had insisted to Aomine to stay despite it being against the rules - he needed more practice, he needed to build up his endurance, he needed to perfect his technique. Aomine, who didn't have the heart to argue when he saw the desperation on his friend’s face, agreed. From then on, the two of them would sneak away after dinner to practice together in the warehouse. It was essentially the same philosophy with basketball - _practice, practice, PRACTICE_.

Kuroko hissed, gritting his teeth as he tried to punch Aomine again, but his attack was already foreseen by the older soldier. His fist was deflected by a forearm, and the other, which he barely had time to draw back before attempting another strike, was swiftly dodged. Aomine towered over Kuroko and grabbed his arms, thrusting his knee in between his legs before jerking it quickly to the side, unlocking one of Kuroko’s knees. Kuroko instantly lost his balance, tipping to the side and landing on the soft mat below.

He flopped over on his back, splayed out on the ground and scowling. He had been at this for _hours_. Chest heaving, Kuroko ran a hand through his sweaty hair and squinted against the lights on the ceiling. Somehow he always found himself lying on the ground after every fight.

Ever since Kasamatsu introduced basic hand-to-hand combat several days ago, Kuroko had been pummeled to the ground, slammed against the wall, gained a thousand new bruises each day and yet he had made no improvement. He wasn’t even this bad at basketball when he was in middle school. After the first day, Kasamatsu didn’t even bother sparing him a single glance. Kuroko was being left behind - and quickly. Everyone else, like Takao and namely those who were his age, were performing better than he was. Despite words of encouragement from various soldiers, Kuroko couldn’t help but acknowledge the sinking feeling that he wasn’t good enough for this, that maybe the nurse who examined him the hour he set foot into the evacuee camp was right. He wouldn’t last.

“Look.” Aomine would always say after their extra training sessions, handing Kuroko an ice pack to nurse the purplish-blue bruises already blooming on his skin, “You’ll get there eventually.”

“You said that yesterday.” Kuroko said, hissing at the coldness numbing the mottled skin. “And the day before that, too.”

“You can’t expect yourself to improve overnight.” Aomine reminded him. “It takes time, but you’ll be good enough by spring. I’m sure of it. But you need to keep practicing for it to come naturally.”

Kuroko bit his lip, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground as he remained seated on the ground, legs folded in Indian style. He subconsciously squeezed the ice pack around his hand, pressing harder.

“So." Aomine crouched, trying to catch a glimpse of sky blue eyes. “You up for another round?”

Kuroko faltered. For a brief moment, Kuroko could taste the words of surrender, mental resolve cracking under the weight of discouragement and exhaustion. Even lifting his eyes up to look at Aomine was a challenge itself, so he kept them lowered to the ground, as if he could hide away the shame that was undoubtedly clear on his face.

Until Kuroko caught sight of a tanned hand extending out towards him, he would never have looked up.

“Come on.” Aomine’s voice was rich with an extraordinary patience. “Let’s try again.”

For a few moments, the blue-haired soldier looked as if he was going to refuse, but with gritted teeth against the pain of his skinned palms, a pale hand clasped onto a tanned one. Aomine pulled Kuroko to his feet, retracting his hand when Kuroko loosened his hold and stood on his own.

“Ready?” Aomine backed up, allowing Kuroko to toss aside the ice pack and to regain his composure. “Let’s wrap it up with a few more sessions.”

  
  
  


Akashi was a reserved man - he didn’t like interfering with others’ business, unless it pertained to him. He liked watching from a distance, only stepping in when he had to, or if he was asked to. Meeting his high standards was a must; everything else was irrelevant. His time and patience was not given out for free, but every so often he found himself doing exactly that if people that met his high standards had interests in other things or people.

But he could not, for the life of him, understand why Daiki was practicing with such a poor excuse of a soldier.

The other soldier was akin to a sloth - slow, awkward, _undisciplined._ His footwork was terrible - lumbering and unsteady as he attempted to dodge each of Daiki’s blows. His punches were weak and lopsided, his concentration wavering, his strength and endurance waning severely as the fight carried on. His determination to keep at it with Akashi’s ace was somewhat admirable, yet pitiful.

Akashi’s eyebrows met in the middle as he kept watching the cringeworthy scene play out before him. This soldier was just another soldier, another body that was worth the amount of time he could hold against the enemy before they breached the shores. Akashi had seen hundreds of thousands of them since he graduated from Rakuzan, all throughout his entire military career. Those who could not improve within the first two months would be dead on the battlefield by the next two. He had seen it enough with his own comrades that he trained with, his own students that he instructed, his roommates, acquaintances, even his own superiors…

Akashi bit the inside of his mouth and refocused on Daiki. Daiki and the other soldier… who was nowhere in sight.

It seemed that Daiki had also notice the sudden disappearance of his friend as he looked around in a full circle, calling out, “Tetsu?”

Akashi stilled.

“I am here.” A voice came out of nowhere, and suddenly the light blue hair was in sight again. Daiki yelped, followed by a few curses.

Akashi blinked, stunned. He was watching the entire fight, yet he didn’t realize that the soldier had disappeared for several seconds.

Processing the information, he watched as Daiki and the other soldier exchange a few words, before nodding and gathering their belongings off the ground. Akashi turned away and slipped out of the warehouse as to not let the two soldiers know that he had been watching them for a while. He nearly let out a laugh when he thought of Daiki’s expression when the light blue-haired soldier appeared out of nowhere, but stopped himself in embarrassment. He hadn’t laughed at such a silly notion in some time.

Akashi made a mental note to himself, tucking away the image of the light blue-haired soldier into the recesses of his mind. He would have to discover more about him later. 

  
  
  
  


Kuroko gulped down the cool liquid, never feeling more blessed to taste plain water on his tongue. He took another swig, desperate for the sensation again, coughing when he almost inhaled it.

“Slow down. Jeez.” Aomine chastised him as Kuroko took a steadying breath.

Kuroko shrugged, swiping at the sweat underneath his jaw.

“Towel.” Aomine tossed him the said item and Kuroko caught it. He began to wipe away the dampness soaked through his shirt, pausing in his step to reach all the way back.

“You good?” Aomine asked, looking back at him.

“Yes.” Kuroko replied, and looked up. “Thank you - ”

_Red._

_Bright, searing red._

Kuroko's breath itched, hitting the back of his throat and refusing to escape through his mouth. He could’ve sworn he had just seen, from the corner of his eye, a flash of _red_ by the warehouse doors, _red_ in the form of flames.

In his mind, he was suddenly running in a forest, panic and fear slamming into him as he tried to keep up. He was suddenly aware of the hyenas, the white-hot flames snapping at his feet, the smell of war and death and the sound of loud blasts, soldiers shouting, war-planes droning. Dust and ashes in his eyes, blood in his mouth, smoke in his lungs, voices in his ears. _Eyes stinging terribly, salty water leaking from his pale blue eyes, he screamed for help, for mercy, but found none._

He spun around, searching for any sign of the color that had caught his attention, heart suddenly pulsing at his throat as he was jolted back to reality. He nearly missed Aomine’s concerned replies. “What’s up? You’ve been spacing out a lot lately.”

“Nothing.” Kuroko said quickly, swallowing repeatedly as if he could push his heart back into his chest again.

Aomine gave him a strange look, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Kuroko was careful to keep his face blank, eyes unblinking and unwavering under Aomine’s scrutiny. After a few seconds, Aomine relaxed, and grinned.

“One more round?”

Kuroko gave him a small smile of his own, relieved despite his aching muscles.

“Sure.”

___________  


“You have fifteen minutes to disassemble and reassemble your rifle.” The instructor announced, watching the clock on the wall, quietly ticking away. “Time starts now.”

The rush began, adrenaline beginning to seep into Kuroko as he picked up his rifle, popping off the appropriate pieces and laying them down neatly on the table in front of him. The sounds of soldiers hurriedly taking apart the complicated instruments was the only noise that filled Kuroko’s ears, a strange anxiety that he had never experienced before. In his head, he ran through the next set of instructions, hoping that he wasn’t wrong. He had memorized every part of the rifle the night before with Kise, going over the procedures straight from the manual that came with gun training.

 _Gun training._ The transition between civilian livelihood to becoming a soldier was anything but slow. In just a few weeks, each new recruit was given a rifle and a magazine of ammunition to learn to use and master as quickly as possible. With the new training regime came a lot of protests from the pacifists and the unwilling, who were all promptly told to shut up and get over it.

Kuroko wasn’t opposed to learning how to use a gun. At this point, he didn’t have a lot of options left. In near, foreseeable future, he would be shipped out of Japan for the first time in his life, heading for a foreign country with hostile enemies. Learning to use a gun was helpful. It was useful, it might save his life one day. That idea alone was more than enough for the eighteen-year old soldier to nod his head, pick up the gun manual, and learn.

Yet _using_ the gun, particularly using it against another living, breathing, _human being_ \- that was something completely different. This was something Kuroko couldn’t understand.

Pausing for a moment to survey his work of disassembling the gun, Kuroko picked up the last piece he just put down, and began putting things back together.

But, sometimes it was only a matter of getting used to it.

After a while, Kuroko grew accustomed to the way the stock pressed against his right shoulder, one holding up the barrel whilst the other hand curled around the handle and the trigger.

The more he practiced with the bullet-ridden plastic dummy did he realize that _he_ was the one in control. _He_ was the one holding the gun, _he_ was the one making the decision to shoot. The gun couldn’t automatically fire without him pulling the trigger. The whole idea of killing another person was his choice and his choice alone. His superiors only ordered him to hold fire or open fire. Nobody said anything about killing anyone.

In front of him, Kuroko spied Momoi already more than halfway done, fingers flying swiftly over the tiny parts and plates of plastic and metal. Aomine was staring dumbly at his half-assembled, lopsided contraption. Kise and Murasakibara, somewhere behind him, were probably muddling along just the same.

The blue-haired soldier stifled a laugh and refocused on his own. Remarkably, he was better at this than hand-to-hand combat. Perhaps this situation wasn’t as bad as he thought it was.

His thoughts were disrupted by a sudden rapping on the door. Heads peered up to see a breathless officer rush into the room.

The instructor glared at the officer. “Sir, these soldiers are undergoing a timed assessment. You need to leave.”

The officer shook his head, and whispered in their ear. At this point, most soldiers were ducking their heads back down; some haven’t even looked up. Kuroko followed suit, sliding the pieces of metal into place as he strained his ears for the smallest of sounds.  

The instructor’s quiet gasp came next, surprising a majority of the soldiers. Kuroko looked up again, catching Kise shooting a pointed look at both Murasakibara and Aomine. Momoi blinked, looking around at Kuroko in question.

Kuroko could only give her a shrug. He heard Momoi’s “ _Dai-chan, what are they talking about?_ ” as he kept his eyes to the table. This happened all the time - officers were busy people, running around in their getups, trying to get things done. He didn’t want to run out of time just because he was distracted by something irrelevant to him -

The shrill sound of a whistle echoed through the warehouse. The instructor, detached, watched as the soldiers placed their half-finished items on the tables.

“We apologize for the disruption, but we will have to continue our training on another day. Please listen carefully. ”

The officer stepped in. “This is not a drill. We have received reports of the Coast Guard failing to redirect foreign ships from our borders. The enemy soldiers are nearly at our shores and are preparing an invasion. The General has ordered all soldiers on the Eastern coast of Japan to arms.”

Kuroko froze. There was a faint buzzing ringing through his head, muffling his surroundings as he struggled to process the information just given to him. Beneath the noise was the heavy _thump thump_ of his heart racing.

Belatedly, he realized he was shaking.

The next set of orders completely flew over Kuroko’s head as he leaned on the table, trying to catch his breath.

“All of you will report to the weaponry and storage rooms to receive your gear. You will receive more instruction there. I repeat, _this is not a drill._ ”

“Experienced soldiers will know the details of the procedure. Follow them, and most importantly - follow orders.”

The rush began as soon as the officer finished speaking; crowds of soldiers already making their way downstairs to the storage rooms.  

“Kurokocchi!” Kise’s voice, miraculously, rose above the elevated haze of fear that had snaked its way through Kuroko’s limbs.“Kurokocchi?”

“Kise,” Kuroko gasped, blindly reaching out for Kise, who found his hand and gripped it tightly. He found himself stumbling over incoherent sentences as his usual calm demeanor visibly broke down. “What do we do? I don’t know what - I’ve never done this before - why is this happening - ”

Kise grabbed the smaller soldier’s shoulder, gripping the fabric between his fingers in an effort to placate the male. “Stop. It’s happening because it’s happening. It was going to happen anyways; emergency missions happen all the time. But first you need to _calm down._ Take a deep breath.”

The golden-haired soldier’s tone, forceful yet firm. It was the voice of a well-seasoned, professional soldier - one so different from the optimistic personality Kuroko was used to that he snapped out of his daze in surprise, looking up into hard, amber eyes and the heavy bags of smooth skin circling underneath before swallowing down the panic.

“I’m calm.” Kuroko told Kise, and himself. He gently pulled away from Kise, looking away in embarrassment. Still, his stomach churned and his back dampened in cold sweat. “I’m sorry. We should go now.”

“We should.” Kise agreed. Looking around, the warehouse was mostly empty, with only a few officers running down its length to gather more soldiers.

At the storage room’s underground, Kise continued to stay by Kuroko’s side. Momoi stuck close to Aomine, her hands trembling as she tried again and again to tie her boots. Aomine ended up tying them for her because she couldn’t keep still.

Kuroko offered her a sympathetic smile, trying but failing to quell his own anxiety. The bulletproof vest was zipped over his chest and the protectors over his limbs, the groin and collar felt like soft, fluffy pillows in comparison to the stones weighing on his back, a black smoke cloud of dread and unease. As the soldiers stood in a line to be given guns and magazines of ammunition, Kuroko felt like a robot, accepting the weaponry with jerky movements, barely registering the feel of the cold plastic trigger around his pointer finger.

Kise, Aomine and Murasakibara disappeared shortly after the soldiers piled upon the trucks and war-planes stationed on the runways, taking off one after another. “We’re in a different platoon,” Aomine mentioned briefly. “But we’ll meet later!”

Momoi almost cried as Kuroko offered her a hug, running his hand down her back, in a simultaneous effort to calm her and hide the way his hands shook. Officers swooped in after the three Generation of Miracles left, effectively breaking through Momoi and Kuroko’s embrace.

Kuroko let Momoi slide away, feeling himself float away in a strange dream. He was pushed and shoved to the outside world, where he was ushered aboard a truck full of unknown faces. “Your new platoon!” Someone told him, to which he only blearily nodded to.

The truck that roared to life came a moment afterwards, but he never registered it. The world, the sunny skies above his helmet and the pearly white clouds drifting across the blue cloth was a mystery to him. He couldn’t even feel the biting winter wind against his dry cheek, the way the helmet’s clip dug into his chin, as he only focused on one mantra within his mind, over and over again: _I am calm, I am calm, I am calm._

The truck Kuroko was on carried them far from the barracks and through the barren highway, following a long line of more trucks and leading an even longer line behind them. The city loomed into view over the horizon, and  the truck came to a quiet stop, rolling over gravel. Kuroko was barely aware of any of it. He could only hear himself think.

_I am calm, I am calm, I am calm._

The rest of the soldiers stood up, hands already poised over their guns. Kuroko only followed suit when another soldier prodded his back.

“You stick together.” The platoon leader was yelling. “Follow each other. Don’t get lost. Do you all hear me? Don’t get lost, or you’ll die once you unknowingly run into a zone of fire. I know you are all newbies, so you’ll have to do what I say. You are all capable of doing this, because you’re under my command. We’re all going to make it through. All those weeks spent at the training field has amounted to this.”

_I am calm, I am calm, I am calm._

“There’s - ” A whistle of a bomb plummeting through the air from a plane drowned out the rest of his words. Kuroko flinched when the ground shook at the force of the weapon imploding on the concrete. The frame of the truck wobbled unsteadily as a blast of wind snaked between the city buildings, shaking their vehicle. “Stay aware of what’s happening! Help each other!” The platoon leader shouted. “There’s a shit ton of people out there. If you - _get down!_ ”

A machine gun fired bullets close by and kicked up dust and soil, the wind carrying the yellow and gray specks in a different direction. Kuroko immediately shrank down with everyone else, clinging onto his helmet for dear life.

“I’m gonna stress it again - _follow orders._ When I say hold fire, you stop. When I say fire, engage. Out here, it’s a whole new world. If you want to survive, you _follow orders._ ”

_I am calm, I am calm, I am calm._

“Now, we’re gonna move out when the lieutenant blows the whistle. Stay in a line, crouch and keep down. When the next whistle blows, you’re all free to disperse but stay within a fifteen meter radius.”

_I am calm, I am calm, I am calm._

“Are we ready?”

Kuroko would never be.

___________________________  


“Ready… _fire at will!_ ”

Propping his rifle atop a car surface, Kuroko hooked one finger around a trigger and fired mostly random bullets. If he focused on the jolting movements of the gun’s recoil every time another bullet escaped the barrel end, the way the side of the gun scraped his cheek, he could completely ignore the other bullets flying all around him. If he looked just straight ahead, narrowing his vision to a small range of enemy soldiers, he could forget the other bodies lying on the road beside him.

The city the two opposing armies were ravaging looked like anything but a city. If an outsider could walk in without being shot to death, they would probably think an apocalypse had occurred. Windows were blown out from the force of various weapons, glass was scattered everywhere on the sidewalks, smoke was rising from the area containing the heaviest damage, and abandoned civilian cars were either completely smashed or scratched from the bullets. The roads were only somewhat cleared of snow while the ever-present danger of slipping on ice lay underneath dirty white mounds. The traffic lights were torn down, while the electrical wires occasionally jerked with small sparks electrifying the air.

Whoever’s idea to fight in an urban area must not have considered the dangers very well; half the corpses were caused by the obstacles alone. A typical battlefield would’ve been in the countryside; this time some smart fellow had decided to host it in a practical landmine. At the same time, it was easier for soldiers to hide, regroup and use the resources around them.

To his left were several soldiers utilizing more cars, trash cans, mailboxes and whatever street debris they could find to serve as a temporary shield. To his right was the platoon leader, sharp eyes raking down the street.

“Hold fire!”

The next command sent Kuroko to the ground, breathing harshly. The ground, wet with melting snow, stained the front of his jacket as he pressed himself into the cement once more. A few hours have passed and the battle had yet to subside.

A distant machine gun could be heard a few blocks away; the repetitive metallic sound echoing between the buildings. Kuroko shivered. Could that be where the Generation of Miracles were fighting? Was Aomine or Kise or Murasakibara firing that gun, or were they running from it? He had every reason to believe that his friends were in danger; the very thought of it had Kuroko gasping for air as panic settled in.

 _You need to calm down._ Kise’s words came full circle as he sucked in air and let out a puff of fog. _Take a deep breath._

A rumble literally shook him out of his thoughts. The car he was hiding behind rattled ominously, creaking quietly. Kuroko automatically looked to the platoon leader for orders, but it seemed as if the platoon leader wasn’t even sure what the rumble was caused by - but the source of the sound seemed to come from a good distance away, behind a dilapidated building where the platoon before them had been dispatched.

“The fuck was that?” Someone remarked.

The blue-haired soldier sunk lower, feeling the shape of his gun press into his chest and chin. It seemed as if something heavy had fallen, causing some kind of shock wave to be sent through the cement ground.

Another rumble, this time lasting longer and much louder than before, jarred Kuroko from his crouched position.

“Sir, what was that?” A soldier called out nearby.

The platoon leader hesitated. “Stand down.” He ordered, slowly getting on his knees to survey the street.

Speaking into the walkie-talkie by his shoulder, his words were quiet against the fuzzy white noise growing louder and louder in Kuroko’s mind.

 _Another enemy?_ Kuroko’s mind raced as he kept his eyes on the platoon leader’s face. _An impromptu earthquake? Is the fight over? Could we go home?_

A thunderous rumble answered, seemingly more close than before. Traffic lights swung dangerously from its perch above the street, while the wires still intact to the electricity poles shivered. Kuroko was tempted to look around him but the option of being yelled at by his platoon leader was a humiliating ordeal he would rather not face.

 _Wait._ What was - Kuroko strained his ears to identify the unknown sound coming from the direction of the rumbling. Was that... screaming? He turned his head towards the nearby skirmish. The walkie-talkie the platoon leader had in his hand began to emit loud sounds of static and broken off words.

“WARNI - … - UNDER A - … - THEY HAV -...”

“Sir?”

“Stand _down_!” The platoon leader spat, twisting his body to glare at the soldier who had apparently stood up. “Where is your discipline? If I see one more of you brats get up without permission, I will personally - ”

There was a bright, searing flash, a high-pitched whine, and an explosion that shook the ground.

For a split second, Kuroko suddenly felt light, swiftly flying into the air as he was lifted from the ground. A gasp escaped through his chapped lips as he reached out, feeling his gun break away from his embrace. Time slowed to monumental seconds as he saw dirt and rocks soar into the air from the road, chunks of heavy concrete crashing into the street and sidewalk alike. Soldiers cried out as sharp fragments hit them, cut into their skin and impair their senses. The screaming, Kuroko dimly registered, sounded much closer now.

Time resumed as soon as Kuroko hit the ground, the snow barely cushioning his fall. He bounced off the snow mound, smacking his head into the concrete sidewalk. Doubling over, he wheezed and coughed his lungs out. He couldn’t even cry out in pain as warm, sticky blood trickled from someplace above his ear.

He rolled over on his back as soon as he could swallow his breakfast down, his head throbbing where he had hit it against the ground. The sensation of bile at the back of his throat only elicited another coughing fit, to the point where he could barely keep his eyes open. The world was sideways to him, blurry and filled with shadows and mottled shapes.

“ _Get up, run!”_  The platoon leader’s voice reached him. Heavy footsteps neared Kuroko, who half expected a hand to reach down to pull him up.

It never came. It seems that in the midst of battle, Kuroko’s misdirection was still as effective as ever.

“ _Move, move!_ ” The orders came again.

Kuroko twitched, weakly pushing himself up. _Move._ He repeated subconsciously in his mind. _Move._

The words he could identify in the midst of so much shouting and noise sparked tiny amounts of adrenaline in his system. His hands found themselves bracing against the ground as they pushed his body up. Kuroko stumbled backwards, turning around and running with the rest of the soldiers. He had no gun, no sense of direction, and he just wanted to throw up and go home.

 _Move._ He told himself again.

“Let’s go, _let’s go!_ ” The platoon leader shouted. “Get down! The planes are coming, get into position!”

 _The planes._ Kuroko gathered laggardly. His vision cleared as he watched the other soldiers begin to form a line in his peripheral vision by the street, crouching together. _The… planes?_

“Get down!”

Kuroko immediately dropped to his knees, joining the rest of his colleagues.

His vision was blurry and bright, spots of color flitting around from the glint of sunlight against the snow. There was a faint throbbing coming from the side of his head, where it had struck the ground, and as a soldier next to Kuroko threw up, Kuroko found himself struggling to swallow his own bile down. As he hunkered down, trying his best to appear small, a shadow swooped over them, momentarily blocking the sun. Blinking rapidly in confusion, and breathing unsteadily he tilted his head back and looked up.

His eyes widened. There was a plane a little ways ahead of them, turning around to make another pass over their area. Strapped to the bottom of the plane, he could make out bombs. As he took in his surroundings, he realized that the line of soldiers, immobile and on the ground, with no real cover, was the perfect target.

His misdirection wouldn’t save him from bombardment - not like this, not now.

Kuroko was the first to break formation, unnoticed.

The blue-haired soldier had never run faster in his life. He didn’t look back to see whether or not the rest of the platoon had realized what he had, didn’t bother listening for the roar of the platoon leader when he saw another soldier sprinting ahead of him.

Arms pumping and legs carrying him swiftly across the street, Kuroko could only think of thanking Kasamatsu for making them run several miles every day. He could only think of the hundreds - no, thousands of pushups he had performed during his time at training, the screech of his muscles that he could easily ignore even under the weight of his body armor. The adrenaline driving him away from the impending disaster behind him was reacting quicker than ever now that fear of death was fostering it.

For a fraction of a second, the shouting behind him lessened down, as if all the soldiers had suddenly quieted down. Kuroko frowned, daring a glance behind him, when another explosion rocked the city and a rippling mass of smoke, dirt, hot air, and bits of glass and shrapnel consumed the street like a wave of black water rushing in, drowning everything in its path.

Kuroko stumbled back, tripping over his feet as the ground trembled beneath him, coughing and wiping rapidly at his stinging eyes when the wave overtook him. As he regained his footing, he heard the screech of metal bending and jerked upright at the sound, just in time to see the building next to him crumble, falling towards him.

_The taste of burnt embers and metallic blood lingered on his tongue as his lungs absorbed the obsidian air, a fragrance of a different kind._

He stumbled back in panic, hot wind whistling in his ears.

This was it.

This was the end.

Kuroko's chest heaved, dragging his feet back but somehow was unable to find the momentum to run. A million thoughts ran through his head at the speed of light, his life flashing before his eyes. He would never live to meet his friends again, he would never live to find his parents, he would never see Kagami or the basketball court or his teachers and classmates or the sky and the sun because all he could see was a dark haze - 

_Eyes stinging terribly, salty water leaking from his pale blue eyes, he screamed for help, for mercy, but found none. His hands shot out, scrabbling for anything that would drag him out of the sea of soot clouds -_

Kuroko suddenly lurched to the side as hands wrapped around his chest, yanking him into an alleyway between two buildings. He screamed as the black smoke, filled with dust and soil and small rocks, flew past the alleyway, the wall of their measly shelter cracking and crumbling along the edges as chunks of concrete and steel crashed onto the street beyond.

A hand forced his head down as a steel beam crashed through a window by his head, glass tinkling and falling, harmless, onto his back like a gentle rain over the thick coverings of his army vest and jacket as he allowed his head to be forced down. Gritting his teeth, Kuroko squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the gods.

The hand holding his head down released its hold. Kuroko relaxed, almost slumping against the ground in his lack of strength.

“Get up. It’s over.”

Opening his eyes after screwing them so tightly shut was certainly a feat for Kuroko. Slowly he looked up, blinking to clear his vision.

A thin layer of ash and dirt lined the ground and his surroundings as he looked up groggily. He put one hand on the ground, noting how much it shook to maintain his weight.

“T-thank you.” Kuroko usually would have hated how much his voice trembled, but now was not the time.

Glancing up at the stranger who just saved him from being burned by the scorching smoke, Kuroko found himself sitting in front of a man with fiery red hair.

“You - ” Kuroko’s throat went dry. He swallowed, hands rolling into a fist.

_The blaze surrounding the red-haired man’s head was a deadly halo, a terrifying breed of man and devil._

Kuroko felt the challenge of deep scarlet and metallic gold boring into his mind, but he stared back, pale blue eyes earnestly battling for dominance. He spoke first.

“Are you Akashi Seijuurou?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kinda like cliffhangers ok 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER. NEXT CHAPTER IS ALL THE AKAKURO YOU COULD EVER DREAM OF
> 
> And once again, a big shoutout to NeverConformEver for proofreading and helping me figure out what the heck im gonna do with this fic :D 
> 
> Comments, kudos, crit...


	9. Chapter 9

Kuroko’s direct gaze locked onto Akashi’s for the first time. The red and gold orbs narrowed slightly as it ran over his disheveled appearance. Kuroko knew that he looked sweatier than he felt, with dried blood caked into his hair and ear, dirt and mud smeared on his face, and a few bruises marring his pale skin to top it off. The lieutenant, on the other hand, had been barely nicked by anything in particular; all he had was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, his jacket collar slightly untucked and his breathing almost as heavy as Kuroko’s.

“Yes, I am him.” Akashi’s voice was as blank as Kuroko’s, perhaps a smidge more dry and callous. “What of it?”

 _Nothing,_ is the first word that pops up into Kuroko’s mind yet it was not the first word that hung from the tip of his tongue. Clamping his mouth shut, Kuroko averted his eyes, gaze sliding to the shards of glass shining in the dimness of the alleyway. Heated and bitter accusations that he didn’t dare slip in fear of castigation from the daunting officer soured his mouth as he swallowed away the developing anger. Wasn’t it Lieutenant Akashi’s fault that he was in this mess? Wasn’t it because of _this man and all those who stood behind him,_ that Kuroko had been forced into a military life, into a world of discord and pain and anxiety?

“Nothing, sir.” Kuroko said shortly.

He felt Akashi’s cold, judgemental gaze lingering briefly, before turning away. There was a shuffling sound of Akashi standing up and footsteps making its way towards the entrance of the alleyway, where destruction lay beyond.

The world was quiet as Kuroko sat unmoving for several moments, listening to the sound of Akashi’s fading footsteps, the engine of army trucks and planes out and about in the city and the guns firing in the distance. There wasn’t a single peep from the street - not one voice, not one soldier, aside from the lieutenant. Kuroko would assume his former platoon to be dead or gone.

In other words, he was alone. _Alone._

Kuroko’s eyes widened. Heartbeat spiking, he leapt to his feet and dashed out into the street, stopping only to check for enemies lying in wait. Debris and a copious amount of steel, wood and glass rose from the pavement, separating him and blocking his view from the other side of the street. Bars of solid iron stuck out in all directions, as if the framework of skyscrapers had come crashing down from the heavens. Dust and ash drifted in the wind, taking its time to coat every object.

Shivers ran down his spine as he surveyed the destruction, the life that was pinned underneath tons of steel. It was eerily quiet, too quiet. Where was everyone?

A single figure sifted through the rubble, his red hair a bright light shining through the dull colors. Covering his nose and mouth with an arm, Kuroko dashed forward, calling out, “Lieutenant! Where should I search?”

The moment Kuroko’s voice broke through the silence, Akashi whirled around, eyes wide and hands flying to the handgun on his belt. Kuroko flinched, inwardly berating himself for being so careless - and _loud._ He slowed to a stop, watching Akashi begin to relax at the sight of a fellow soldier.

“Over there.” Akashi pointed to a pile of rubble farther down the street. “There were some soldiers running over there before the impact.”

Kuroko nodded, heading over to the place where Akashi had directed him to. He grabbed the first slab of concrete, planting his feet against the ground and pulling hard. It came free, but not without a few grunts. Rusted wires connecting the concrete together fell apart as soon as it tumbled a short height to the ground. Kuroko continued to dig through, momentarily distracted with the thought of his fellow comrades stuck underneath the devastation, desperately in need of medical attention.

Kasamatsu had once said something about the value of teamwork. How it was important to support each other, even in times of hardship, struggle, fear and darkness. That abandoning comrades was just as shameful as deserting one’s rank, that helping those who couldn’t help themselves was more courageous than being a hero. As an individual, you were practically useless. As a unit, options were wide and open. If one weak link failed, then the entire platoon had failed. Kuroko didn’t know his platoon very well, but he had spent enough time training to know better. Kuroko remembered looking up to the drill sergeant with respect, the black-haired man laying the truth before the new soldiers just a week ago.

So he carried on, wincing as the sharp metal nicked his fingers.  A large dust cloud swarmed up to greet him as he pulled away more broken pieces of concrete, making his eyes water. Averting his gaze, he stuck his arm into the rubble, blindly gripping at something soft.

_Soft...?_

Kuroko grabbed at the object, pulling it to the light. A limp hand and arm appeared in view, attached to a body below the rubble.

“Sir!” Kuroko called to Akashi, who spotted his new find.

“Don’t pull too hard.” The lieutenant advised as he neared Kuroko, kneeling by his side and examining the soldier inside, who was visibly unconscious, but thankfully breathing. “You might injure them further.”

Instead, Akashi thrust a rifle and a pack of ammunition into Kuroko’s arms.

“You’ll need this. I’ve already gathered mine.”

Kuroko ignored the sticky barrel that was coated with someone’s blood, focusing more on the limp hand beneath the rubble. It was obvious that the lieutenant had taken them from the unconscious - or dead - soldiers.

Gently pushing on the soldier’s wrist with two fingers, Kuroko checked for the telltale sign of life. From his side, he heard a huff from the lieutenant.

“The medics are coming in a few minutes. They’ll take care of him.” Akashi stood up, brushing dirt off his trousers. He hoisted the strap of the rifle over his shoulder. Kuroko missed how his eyes lifted to the sky, eyebrows furrowing at the pale sky. “We should go.”

“We?”

“You’re not part of my platoon, but it’s part of the protocol to take you under my wing until you find your own.” Akashi explained shortly, already putting some distance between the blue-haired soldier and himself.

Sensing the lieutenant’s impatience, Kuroko slung his rifle over his shoulder in a similar fashion and stood up. “But the others - “ Kuroko said slowly, reluctantly as Akashi turned his head to scowl at him.

“Will be handled by the medics.” With a smooth, crisp tone, Akashi cut him off. “I have plenty of other things to attend to.”

Kuroko’s hands rolled into a fist and he opened his mouth to retort.

“Whether you agree with me or not is none of my business.” Akashi said. From the ground, all Kuroko could see was his golden eye, narrowed in impatience. “I could leave you to the enemy to become a war prisoner for all I care.”

He winced, looking away to acknowledge the truth.

As Akashi began to walk away, and Kuroko begrudgingly followed.

 

 

 

 

As the sounds of war grew louder, the end of the street drew closer. Chaos thundered, giving the two soldiers good reason to press against buildings whenever they could. There could be snipers everywhere - on the roofs, behind cars, behind windows - though they would probably not deem them as targets worthy of wasting ammunition on. Akashi stepped forward, peering out around the edge of the corner of a tall building. Kuroko dropped to his knees when he saw Akashi’s hand fly out, signaling him to stop and kneel.

Kuroko waited for orders, watching Akashi silently. He could see the concentration of his narrowed eyes, clearly analyzing the dynamics of the battle, formulating ideas and strategies.

“My men are over there.” Akashi said in a hushed voice over his shoulder. “I only have four of them, so they may not even notice you.”

Kuroko nodded. That was to be expected.

“Though…” Akashi looked around at the private, eyes slithering over his crouched form and shining with interest. “You might know these men just as well as I do.”

“I… beg pardon, sir?”

No sign was given that Akashi had an answer in mind when he gestured Kuroko to come closer. Kuroko shuffled forward, situating himself next to him. The radiating warmth of the lieutenant was more than comforting against the crisp March air - although, Kuroko mused, that was a strange thought.

“See them over there? The ones with colored hair?” Akashi murmured as he allowed Kuroko to look out at the next street over. “I know you know Aomine Daiki, so the blonde one is Kise Ryouta, the purple one Murasakibara Atsushi and the green one Midorima Shintarou.”

Recognition flickered across Kuroko’s face for the first three names but the last name he failed to recall. _But how does he know I know Aomine-kun?_

“Midorima is one of the second lieutenants here. He is one of the most reliable soldiers in my squad so I would advise you to stick close to him, if you are not comfortable working with anyone else.” Akashi commented. “Though I am not sure if he would enjoy aiding someone of your level.”

Kuroko brought his gaze to his boots, staring hard at the mud-crusted laces. The sting remained as a faint flush of color on his cheeks, overriding whatever confidence and courage he had mustered just moments ago.

“I’ll try my best, sir.”

Akashi looked back to his squad, simply too uninterested to reply. With adrenaline still swimming throughout him, Kuroko was tempted to ask for a task. Anything that he could do to distract himself or make himself seem useful to the man who looked at him like an insect. Kuroko bit his lip, refraining from thinking angry thoughts. He couldn’t let his emotions take over him. He needed to stay calm.

It was as if the lieutenant could read his mind. “The current plan is to regroup. We will return to a bunker to rest, inspect any wounds, report to the higher-ups and identify another strategy. There, you are welcome to return to your own platoon or drill sergeant.”

Kuroko nodded.

“You will run to the end of the block over there, where that vehicle is.” Akashi pointed to a parked army truck several hundred meters away, across the street from where they were. “Keep close to the buildings before you cross the street.”

Akashi reached into a breast pocket, producing a small silver key, which he handed to Kuroko. “In the truck you will need to unlock the back door to allow my squad to enter. Inside are supplies and more weapons. You also need to start the truck so that we can make a quick getaway. I will tell you now that there may be enemies hiding around that truck, so trust your instincts. Are you ready, Private?”

Inserting the key into a pocket, Kuroko absentmindedly ran his finger over the rifle’s trigger.

“Yes, sir.”

On a count of three, both men lifted themselves from the ground and began to sprint. They parted ways before Kuroko realized it; Kuroko could hear his breathing and his breathing only, keeping his rifle down but ready to shoot. The concrete buildings were inches from his side as he pressed closely, hoping that no one could sense him.

Akashi leapt into battle as soon as he could with a hefty swing of the end of the rifle. It collided into the skull of an enemy soldier with a sickening _crunch_ , followed by the automatic sound of gunfire, like jaws snapping. The sound played over and over in Kuroko’s mind, breath catching in his throat as Akashi shot another in the chest before kicking them square in the solar plexus -

He spotted Aomine - sweat-drenched, a nasty scar developing on his left cheek, a ferocious scowl and gritted teeth - in close combat with another. For several moments Kuroko was momentarily distracted by Kise, a golden fox slinking about the pack of hounds, a victorious sneer on the otherwise bright face. And then there was Murasakibara, easily hoisting a larger gun over his shoulder as he took aim at some soldiers on the roof of the opposite side of the street. And a green-haired man - _Midorima?_ \- with impeccable aim and well-placed, sharp movements. The Generation of Miracles. The only thing Kuroko could think of was how fluid they looked together, how _amazing_ -

_BANGBANGBANG -_

Kuroko yelped, heart lurching to his throat. He threw himself forward, breaths coming out in short, tight gasps.

Several dark holes appeared in the wall inches from Kuroko’s head, each one housing a small bullet.

_If he had been just a bit slower, if he had waited a second too long -_

Stumbling to his feet, he had to resort to hiding in a set of stairs leading up to an apartment building, taking shelter in the shadows. His very being trembled terribly as he tried to press against the wall, taking in deep, shaky breaths of air.

The buzzing in his ear was overwhelmingly noisy. Both his ears seemed muffled, as if someone had placed a pillow on both sides of his head. His vision swam as a sensation of dizziness overtook him, gripping his skull with an iron fist. Dark spots fluttered about before him like tiny black butterflies, escaping his direct gaze every time he looked around. Again, the wound by his head began to pulse every time he put his head down to calm down.

_Deep breaths. Deep breaths._

He pressed to the side of his head, feeling the dried blood between his nails. At least it wasn’t flowing freely.

He couldn’t stop here, not for long. He had to keep going.  

Wiping a new sheen of sweat from his face, Kuroko glanced outside. There were soldiers advancing down the street behind him. They couldn’t see him now, although he knew that as soon as he stepped out of hiding and if he wasn’t careful again, he would be shot on sight.  

Could he run across the sidewalk and into the street without being noticed? The number of soldiers and debris scattered across the road would serve as an obstacle course itself. Shells lying abundant on the ground was enough trouble itself. Maybe take shelter by that lamppost over there? No, that wasn’t enough cover. Aware of seconds that ticked by, he drew his gaze towards Akashi. The red haired man shouted at Murasakibara and Kise, who nodded and began to redirect themselves towards the army truck.  

Kuroko straightened, rearranging the helmet on his head. He fought past the sickness climbing his esophagus. Then he had no choice, after all. 

 _On the count of three._ He told himself, trying to mimic the lieutenant’s patience and steadiness that he knew he didn’t have. The soldiers neared.

One.

Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a key, gripping it in a tight fist. The ringing in his ears grew louder as he focused in, quivering in anxiety. 

Two.

A loud gunshot startled him as Kuroko darted out, flinching every time he heard the machine gun go off. There was no hesitation as he leapt into the street, holding onto his gun like it was his lifeline. Only one word crossed his mind - _run._

He wasn’t sure if there was anyone following him. Once his feet hit the road, he didn’t dare look back in fear that he would trip over something or hesitate too long. Kuroko pushed past fellow soldiers, panting wildly as he passed up strict, rhythmic breathing for something akin to an animalistic instinct of fight or flight -

“ _Hey!_ ”

A large mass collided into his side, sending him to the ground. The world spun before him. Pain sprouted from his head as warm liquid began to break through the clotted mess of his pale blue hair.

A flash of silver blinded Kuroko before he realized what he had dropped.

 _The key, the key, where is the key?!_ was everything Kuroko could think about, the other soldier’s curses going through one ear and flying out the other. Scrabbling about the ground, he felt the pads of his fingers scrape the rough concrete as he snatched it up, cradling it to his chest as if it were his baby.

“Useless soldier - ” A snarl brought Kuroko’s attention to the soldier he just ran into.

Akashi glared at him, chagrin burning in his features. A scrape on his cheek signified where he had just crashed into Kuroko. “Watch where you’re going!”

“I’m sorry!” He blurted out, shuddering at the sensation of blood dribbling from his chin.

Akashi’s expression shifted from anger to realization. “Private, have you unlocked the truck yet?”

“No, I -  "

 _“Too slow.”_ Akashi snapped, swiping the key from Kuroko. “Get back to the truck. _Now_.”

Kuroko gave a self-deprecating nod, pulling himself to his feet in a sense of deja vu. 

Something suddenly thrown at him broke his train of thought, followed by a shout that directed him to the source of brewing trouble.

A small, green oval-shaped device fell upon a dead body, muffling the sound of its impact before rolling over and hitting the concrete with a small _clang._ A ring of red X’s circled its midsection, signifying the deadly explosives inside.

Time spun by in a matter of seconds but to Kuroko, each second was infinitesimally long.

His eyes widened, recognizing the absence of the pull ring and the small stream of smoke filtering from its open cap. He was about to run when he spotted Akashi’s back still turned, who evidently hadn’t noticed that the seconds before his death were rapidly ticking down to the single digits.

But then, with a yell for the lieutenant, Kuroko ran straight forward, bypassing the grenade and shoved himself into Akashi’s back. Kasamatsu’s training kicked in as he remembered to keep his arms firmly against his body, attempting to point himself away from the grenade.

The blast was incredible.

He could feel a devastating pressure on his lower back and legs, sudden jabs in his arms and legs of razor-sharp shrapnel. Kuroko screamed out, nearly breaking formation as he swore his organs and brain were about to burst from within.

Letting out a strained gasp for air, Kuroko choked on his blood until he could see only black.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was having a little trouble writing this chapter but I finally cranked it out in one sitting and now I've got to study for exams WISH ME LUCK BYE 
> 
> Comments, kudos, crit...


End file.
